


Alpha Centauri

by Bears_in_the_sky



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, F/F, F/M, Hogwarts, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Female Character, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Magical Tattoos, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Minor Original Character(s), Modern Royalty, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Other, Sirius Black & James Potter Friendship, Triwizard Tournament
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:14:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24280399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bears_in_the_sky/pseuds/Bears_in_the_sky
Summary: Astrid and Sirius live very different lives. Heck, they don’t even live in the same country. She is struggling to fulfill the burden of who her family is, while he will do anything to escape his. But before they were old enough to understand all this, they were just two kids at a Christmas party, and one had just dumped eggnog on the other. With their lives built on shifting stones, can they change and grow together or will their differences drive them apart?
Relationships: Alice Longbottom & Mary MacDonald & Marlene McKinnon & Dorcas Meadowes & Lily Evans Potter, Andromeda Black Tonks/Ted Tonks, Arthur Weasley/Molly Weasley, James Potter & Lily Evans Potter, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Lily Evans Potter & Severus Snape, Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy, Marlene McKinnon/Dorcas Meadowes, Petunia Evans Dursley & Lily Evans Potter, Petunia Evans Dursley/Vernon Dursley, Remus Lupin & Lily Evans Potter, Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks, Sirius Black & Marlene McKinnon, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin & Peter Pettigrew & James Potter, Sirius Black/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wish I owned Harry Potter, but I don't. JK Rowling owns all canon characters. Enjoy!

_Christmas Eve, 1965_

Erik Andreassen knelt in front of his five year old granddaughter, a rare smile on his face. “Are you enjoying the party, little one?”

“Yes grandpapa,” she answered, her curls bobbing as she nodded. A green ribbon that matched her dress kept her hair out of her face. “Are you?”

He chuckled. “I am. But Astrid, why are you in the corner all by yourself? Where are your brothers and sisters?”

“They’re having fun with their friends.” She pointed at her nearest brother, who was pulling crackers with his friends.

“And why aren’t you with them?”

She made a face. “Because I don’t have fun with their friends.”

“How about,” suggested Erik, “you find some friends of your own to have fun with. Tuva should be around here somewhere. Why don’t you go find her?”

Astrid nodded. Her grandfather patted her head affectionately and left. She hadn’t been scanning the party for her cousin long when —

“Sirius!” shouted a sharp nosed woman. “Don’t you d-AHHHHHH!”

Her scream was punctuated by a splash as her young son poured the entire bowl of eggnog onto an unsuspecting Astrid’s head.

The entire party went silent as all heads turned towards the commotion, the only sounds Walburga’s frantic apologies and the gentle drip of eggnog onto the floor. Even Astrid’s parents froze, their faces slack with shock as they waited for her reaction.

Very slowly, Astrid wiped the eggnog out of her eyes, turned to Sirius, and said, “That wasn’t very nice of you.”

As her mother swept her away to get cleaned up and Sirius’s mother nearly died of embarrassment, her normally stoic grandfather roared with laughter. As their shock wore off, the other attendees echoed his laughter, until the entire party had relaxed.

“Merry Christmas!” shouted Erik, raising his glass of mulled wine. “And happy New Year!”


	2. Off to School

_August 15th, 1971_

“Astrid. Astrid darling, wake up. Wake up.”

Inga gently shook her daughter until she woke, then sat at the end of her bed.

“Mamma? What time is it?” Asked Astrid as she sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

“Very early in the morning, my darling. But you must leave for school today and you cannot be late.” Astrid yawned and Inga smiled. “Get dressed and come downstairs for breakfast.”

The door shut behind Inga with a soft click as her youngest daughter began to get ready for school.

“Your majesty,” said one of the guards in the hallway. Inga inclined her head as she passed. She woke her other children, first her daughters and then her sons, and headed down to the dining room.

The last of her children would leave for Durmstrang Institute today. Her husband had promised he would be home in time to see them off, but he was still in Greece. When they had married she hadn’t been the queen, but now, twenty years later, she was Queen Inga of Norway and he was King Constantine II of Greece. The sun had only just risen fully, she noticed, as she entered the dining room.

It wasn’t long before one of her children joined her. Louiza, her eldest daughter and second child, entered, already wearing her uniform save for the cape. Her hair was in two braids, something Inga had taught her how to do when she was Astrid’s age.

“Morning mamma,” said Louiza as she scooped scrambled eggs onto a slice of toast and sat down.

“Morning dear,” said Inga, sipping her coffee. “Are you ready for school? Are you excited? Sixth year is a tough one.”

“Very.”

“Morning mamma!” Chorused her younger sons, Thaddeus and Emil. Emil, Astrid’s twin, was already wearing his brand new uniform but Thaddeus, who was in his fourth year, was still in pajamas.

“Astrid’s on her way down,” said Emil as he spread liberal amounts of jam on his toast. “She wanted to visit grandpapa’s portrait.”

Of all of Inga’s children, Astrid missed Erik the most, despite being only six when he died. She often visited his portrait in the corridor upstairs and this morning she made a special visit, one more before she left for school.

“I’ll make you proud grandpapa,” she said quietly. His stern face and piercing blue eyes stared back at her; even his portrait was intimidating. Astrid took a deep breath and headed downstairs for breakfast. She was more than a little nervous about leaving for school.

“Good morning dear,” said her mother as Astrid entered the dining room and helped herself to a bowl of oatmeal, piling berries on top.

“Morning mamma,” replied Astrid. “Where’s papa?”

“I’m sorry darling, but your father’s still in Greece.” Astrid’s face fell.

“But he promised he’d be here to see us off!” she protested.

“And so I shall!” said Constantine, sweeping into the dining room and hugging his youngest before greeting his wife with a kiss. Astrid smiled and hugged him back. Her siblings all greeted their father enthusiastically; when Basile, Louiza’s twin and the eldest, and Arabella, a third year, came down they were equally excited to see their father.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner,” said the king, “but I was caught up until late last night and decided it’d be better to arrive bright and early in the morning!”

“Speaking of bright and early,” said Inga, “it’s time four of them left for school.”

At Durmstrang, only the first years and the student heads of each of the four houses had to arrive so early in the morning. Both Basile and Louiza had been chosen as heads so they were preparing to leave with Emil and Astrid. The rest of the students would arrive just before lunch; that was why Thaddeus and Arabella weren’t yet wearing a uniform like their siblings.

The family moved into the drawing room and Basile, Louiza, Emil, and Astrid lined up in front of the fireplace. Constantine tossed a handful of Floo powder into the fire and sent Basile’s trunk off to Durmstrang. Basile followed close behind, stepping into the green flames and shouting “Durmstrang!”

Louiza’s trunk was next, and then she disappeared like her brother. Constantine and Inga hugged Emil before sending him off and at last it was Astrid’s turn.

“Make friends. Learn lots. And have fun,” said Constantine, giving her a tight hug.

“What about my scars?” The question was whispered into her father’s ear at the last second, but they were long held fears.

“They’ll make you look tough,” he whispered back reassuringly. “Durmstrang likes toughness.” She nodded, but she was still nervous. “It’ll be alright. We love you.”

After one last hug from her mother, Astrid stepped into the fire and said goodbye. “Durmstrang!”

“She’ll be alright, won’t she?” asked Inga worriedly, after Astrid had left. “And Emil?” Her husband put his arms around her.

“They’ll both be fine,” he said. “I’m sure of it.”

~~~

_September 1st, 1971_

“Sirius! Sirius Orion Black! Come back here _at once_!”

Sirius rolled his eyes as his mother shrieked at him and resentfully pushed his trolley back to where his parents and brother were. He had almost made it through the barrier and onto platform nine and three quarters without them.

“Sirius! How many times do I have to tell you, _do not embarrass the House of Black!_ ” His mother’s shrill voice became an even shriller whisper as she lowered her voice to avoid being overheard by passing muggles.

“Yes mother,” he replied in a monotone voice.

“Let’s just get onto the platform,” said his father Orion. “It’s nearly eleven.”

“That’s what I was _trying_ to do,” muttered Sirius. His parents went through the barrier first, leaving their sons to follow.

“You’ll write to me, won’t you?” asked Regulus, who was only ten.

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” answered Sirius, not really paying attention.

They arrived on the platform, and Sirius smiled when he saw the scarlet steam engine. While his parents chatted with some of their pureblood friends — he caught a glimpse of Abraxas Malfoy and his insufferable son — Sirius loaded his trunk and owl onto the train. He found an empty compartment and considered not saying goodbye at all, simply staying on the train and hoping his parents wouldn’t notice until he was long gone, but instead he dutifully trudged back down the corridor and over to his family.

“Bye,” said Sirius, but no one was paying attention. “I’m leaving!” he said, raising his voice.

“There’s no need to shout,” said his mother. “Remember Sirius, I expect you not to embarrass the House of Black —”

“So you’ve said.”

“— and be sorted into Slytherin,” Walburga finished, looking down her nose at him. “Off you go.”

“Right then,” said his father. “See you at Christmas.”

And with that they both turned their backs on him and resumed their conversation.

“Goodbye Sirius,” whispered Regulus, giving him a hug. “I’ll miss you.”

Sirius sighed and patted his brother’s back. “I’ll miss you too. _But I certainly won’t miss them_ ,” he added under his breath. “See you at Christmas Reg.” He ruffled his brother’s hair. “Try and cause some trouble for me, won’t you?”

A whistle sounded. Sirius jumped onto the train and worked his way through the corridor towards his compartment. He caught sight of Lucius Malfoy, his chest puffed out with importance as he fastened on a Prefects’ badge, and just couldn’t resist. He slid open the compartment door, chucked in a dungbomb he’d smuggled out of the house, and slammed it shut. He heard Malfoy shout, but he was long gone.

By the time he reached the compartment where he’d stowed his trunk and owl, Sirius was grinning broadly, and thinking that Hogwarts wouldn’t be so bad after all. His mood improved even more when he slid open the compartment door to find that, aside from a small redheaded girl curled in the corner, the compartment was empty aside from James.

~~~

“You’ve got this James,” said his father fondly.

His son beamed, chest puffed out in pride. “I know I do.”

“You sure you’ve packed everything?” asked his mother for the thousandth time.

James rolled his eyes. “Yes mum, I’m sure.”

“Right,” said his father, “let’s get you through the barrier and onto that train.”

James bounded alongside his parents as his father pushed his trolley through Kings’ Cross Station and towards platform nine and three quarters. Together the three of them ran through the barrier and emerged on the other side, where a sea of students and their parents stood beside the Hogwarts Express.

“Promise you’ll write to us?” said his mother before James could run off.

“Every week,” said James.

“And you’ll _try_ to behave?”

James smiled mischievously. “I’ll do my best.”

“I hope you’ll do your best in your classes as well,” said his father. “Make lots of friends and have fun.”

“I will dad!”

“That’s my boy,” said his father, ruffling his already unruly hair.

“But not _too_ much fun,” teased his mother Euphemia. “We’ll see you at Christmas.”

James allowed his mother to give him a kiss and hugged both of his parents one more time before grabbing his trunk and owl and darting off. “I’m ready! Goodbye!”

“But is Hogwarts ready for him?” joked Fleamont, putting an arm around his wife. They waved as they watched their son board the train.

James dragged his trunk through the corridor until he found a compartment, empty except for a small girl with dark red hair curled in the corner.

~~~

“Lily, how do we get onto platform… nine and three quarters?” her mother asked, checking the ticket to be sure she’d read it right. “There’s only platforms nine and ten.”

“Professor McGonagall told me,” said Lily. “I asked her and she said to walk straight at the wall between the platforms and that we’d arrive on platform nine and three quarters.”

“Will we be able to get through?”

“How about Lily and I go first and you and Petunia follow?” suggested Lily’s father.

“Oh alright then,” said her mother. “We can’t stand here looking around all day. The train leaves at eleven.”

Together, Lily and her father pushed her trolley forward, gathering speed as they neared the barrier. Lily winced, expecting a crash, but they passed right through and found themselves on platform nine and three quarters, just like Professor McGonagall had said. The platform was filled with witches and wizards and muggles, and everything was loud. Steam issued from a great scarlet steam engine and billowed through the crowd.

Her mother and Petunia, her older sister by two years, came through the barrier soon after, and the family of four wove through the crowded platform. Lily caught sight of Severus Snape, her neighbor and the only other Hogwarts student she knew, and practically dragged her father over to meet him and his mother. His father was nowhere to be seen.

But as she moved to talk to Severus, she caught sight of her sister’s face; somewhere between disdain and shock, Petunia looked jealous and angry. Petunia stood a little ways away from their parents, her arms crossed. Lily walked over to join her instead, but Petunia turned away.

“I’m sorry, Tuney, I’m sorry! Listen —” She caught her sister’s hand and held tight to it, even though Petunia tried to pull it away. “Maybe once I’m there — no, listen, Tuney! Maybe once I’m there, I’ll be able to go to Professor Dumbledore and persuade him to change his mind!”

“I don’t — want — to — go!” said Petunia, and she dragged her hand back out of her sister’s grasp. “You think I want to go to some stupid castle and learn to be a — a —”

Her pale eyes roved over the platform, over the cats mewling in their owners’ arms, over the owls fluttering and hooting at each other in cages, over the students, some already in their long black robes, loading trunks onto the scarlet steam engine or else greeting one another with glad cries after a summer apart.

“— you think I want to be a — a freak?”

Lily’s eyes filled with tears as Petunia succeeded in tugging her hand away.

“I’m not a freak,” said Lily. “That’s a horrible thing to say.”

“That’s where you’re going,” said Petunia with relish. “A special school for freaks. You and that Snape boy… weirdos, that’s what you two are. It’s good you’re being separated from normal people. It’s for our safety.”

Lily glanced toward her parents, who were looking around the platform with an air of wholehearted enjoyment, drinking in the scene. Then she looked back at her sister, and her voice was low and fierce.

“You didn’t think it was such a freak’s school when you wrote to the headmaster and begged him to take you.”

Petunia turned scarlet.

“Beg? I didn’t beg!”

“I saw his reply. It was very kind.”

“You shouldn’t have read —” whispered Petunia, “that was my private — how could you — ?”

Lily gave herself away by half-glancing toward where Severus stood nearby. Petunia gasped.

“That boy found it! You and that boy have been sneaking in my room!”

“No — not sneaking —” Now Lily was on the defensive. “Severus saw the envelope, and he couldn’t believe a Muggle could have contacted Hogwarts, that’s all! He says there must be wizards working undercover in the postal service who take care of —”

“Apparently wizards poke their noses in everywhere!” said Petunia, now as pale as she had been flushed. “ _Freak_!” she spat at her sister, and she flounced off to where her parents stood.

Lily gaped at her for a moment and then dabbed at her eyes with the sleeve of her jacket, trying hard not to cry. She pulled herself together and, forgetting about Severus entirely, strode over to her parents to bid them goodbye.

“We’re so proud of you!” cried her mother, hugging her tightly. “Write to us, won’t you? We’ll see you at Christmas. Oh, I’m so proud!”

“Have lots of fun doing magic!” said her father. “I’m sure you’ll catch up to all these other wizards and witches fast! We love you!”

As Lily hugged her father goodbye, she looked over his shoulder at Petunia, whose scowl only deepened. So without saying goodbye to her sister, she boarded the train. She waved as the train began to move, and when it was out of sight she dragged her heavy trunk through the corridor, darting into the first empty compartment she came across.

Soon after she sat down, the compartment door slid open and a slight, hazel eyed boy with wild jet black hair dropped into one of the other seats. She barely spared him a glance and practically pressed her face against the windowpane, unable to keep from crying any longer. She didn’t look around when the door opened a second time and another boy joined the first. Soon they were laughing and joking with each other, but it wasn’t until Severus sat down opposite her, already wearing his new Hogwarts robes, that she looked away from the window, her eyes red from crying.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” she said in a constricted voice, looking away from him as quickly as she’d seen him.

“Why not?”

“Tuney h-hates me. Because we saw that letter from Dumbledore.”

“So what?”

She threw him a look of deep dislike.

“So she’s my sister!”

“She’s only a —” He caught himself quickly; Lily, too busy trying to wipe her eyes without being noticed, did not hear him.

“But we’re going!” he said, unable to suppress the exhilaration in his voice. “This is it! We’re off to Hogwarts!”

She nodded, mopping her eyes, but in spite of herself, she half smiled.

“You’d better be in Slytherin,” said Severus, encouraged that she had brightened a little.

“Slytherin?”

The hazel eyed boy, who had shown no interest in Lily or Severus until this point, looked around at the word. He was black haired like Severus but had that indefinable air of having been well-cared-for, even adored, that Severus so conspicuously lacked. Lily thought his name was James.

“Who wants to be in Slytherin? I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?” James asked the boy lounging on the seats opposite him, who had neat black hair and grey eyes. Lily recalled James referring to this boy as Sirius when he had entered the compartment. Sirius did not smile.

“My whole family have been in Slytherin,” he said.

“Blimey,” said James, “and I thought you seemed all right!”

Sirius grinned.

“Maybe I’ll break the tradition. Where are you heading, if you’ve got the choice?”

James lifted an invisible sword.

“‘Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart!’ Like my dad.”

Severus made a small, disparaging noise. James turned on him.

“Got a problem with that?”

“No,” said Severus, though his slight sneer said otherwise. “If you’d rather be brawny than brainy —”

“Where’re you hoping to go, seeing as you’re neither?” interjected Sirius.

James roared with laughter. Lily sat up, rather flushed, and looked from James to Sirius in dislike.

“Come on, Severus, let’s find another compartment.”

“Oooooo…”

James and Sirius imitated her lofty voice; James tried to trip Severus as he passed.

“See ya, Snivellus!” James called, as the compartment door slammed shut.

The door had barely closed in their wake when it slid open again, and a tall, sandy haired boy with scars lining his face peered in. He was thin and wiry and was accompanied by a short, nervous looking blond boy with watery blue eyes.

“Can we sit here? Everywhere else is full…”

~~~

“Are you ready Remus?”

Hope Lupin had to kneel so that her son would look her in the light, greenish brown eyes that they shared. Remus was beyond nervous. He was absolutely terrified. He shook his head, but his father Lyall clapped a hand on his shoulder and said, “Of course he is.”

“You’ve got everything you need?” asked Hope anxiously.

Remus nodded. “Yes mum. I checked again before we left.”

“You know that Professor Dumbledore has gone through a lot of trouble for you,” said his father. His words were harsh but his tone was soft, and worry showed in his eyes.

“I know dad,” said Remus.

“And you won’t tell a soul?”

“Of course not.” One of Remus’s worst fears was someone finding out; it had been the subject of a recurring nightmare.

His mother ran a hand through his hair. “You’ve gotten so tall,” she said, “and lycanthropy or no, I’m sure you will have fun at… at Hogwarts.”

Lyall checked his watch. “It’s almost time to go.”

Remus loved trains. Real trains, model trains, it didn’t matter. He loved riding on them, he loved playing with them, he loved collecting them. But now, staring at the Hogwarts Express, painted scarlet and with steam billowing around them, he just felt queasy.

“I’ll- I’ll be alright,” he said, more to himself than anyone else.

“I know you will,” said his mother, smiling at him. She looked as if she was about to cry, but she wiped her eyes and gave him a rib cracking hug.

“We’re so proud of you, you know that?” said his father when it was his turn to hug Remus. Remus nodded and took a deep breath. “Now, go study hard, make friends, and have fun, okay?”

“Yes dad.”

“Do you need any help with your trunk?”

Remus shook his head. “I can manage. See you at Christmas.”

“We love you!” called Hope as Remus disappeared into the crowd and boarded the train. “We’ll write to you!”

Remus waved to show he’d heard, and when he turned back around he nearly knocked over a small boy with short blond hair and watery blue eyes. “Oh — sorry!”

~~~

“Oh Peter, you’re finally going to Hogwarts!”

Ellen Pettigrew squeezed her son into a tight hug as his father Herbert tried to load Peter’s trunk onto the train.

“Mum — ow — you’re crushing me!”

“I’m just so excited!” she said, pulling back.

“Ready to go son?” asked his father. “It’s nearly eleven.”

Peter nodded and hugged his father. “I’ll be home for Christmas,” he promised, “and I’ll try and write.”

“Just… just have fun,” said Herbert. “And make lots of friends.”

Peter hugged his mom one more time before boarding the train, just as she burst into tears. He’d barely taken a step before a skinny, sandy haired boy with frightening scars on his face nearly knocked him over.

“Oh — sorry!” he said, helping Peter up just as the train started to pull out of the station. “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going and… are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” said Peter. The boy was more than a head taller than him but he looked nice enough, and seemed just as frightened as Peter. He decided that he liked this boy. “I’m Peter Pettigrew. What’s your name?”

“Remus — Remus Lupin,” said the boy, giving Peter a half smile. “Um… should we find a compartment?”

Peter nodded, and together they set off down the corridor, dragging their bulky trunks behind them. They passed one that looked promising but not quite right, several filled with older students, and a number that were just too full. Ahead, they saw a sallow faced, thin boy and a fiery redhead leave a compartment, sliding the door shut with a snap behind them.

Remus looked at Peter, who shrugged.

“Let’s check it out,” he said. “Maybe it’s empty.”

Remus and Peter peered into the compartment, where two rambunctious boys were laughing with one another. They looked harmless and friendly enough, so Remus slid the door open and stuck his head inside.

“Can we sit here? Everywhere else is full…”

“Sure!” said one of the boys at once. He wore round glasses and had messy black hair. “I’m James — James Potter.”

The two boys helped Remus and Peter heave their trunks into racks on the wall and then they all sat down. Peter couldn’t help but feel relieved, and a glance at Remus meant that his new friend felt the same

“I’m Sirius Black,” said the other boy, lounging in his seat. He had much neater black hair than James, and stared at them with grey eyes.

“Seriously?” burst out Peter before he could stop himself. His eyes wide in horror, he covered his mouth with his hands. He hoped he hadn’t just ruined any chance of friendship he had with Sirius.

But if anything, Sirius was smiling wider now. “Seriously. And who might you be?”

“I’m Peter Pettigrew,” he said. He nudged Remus.

“Oh, um,” said Remus, clearing his throat, “I’m Remus… Remus Lupin.”

“Well Remus and Peter,” said James, grinning broadly at them both. “Are you ready? We’re on our way to Hogwarts!”


	3. Durmstrang Institute

_August 15th, 1971_

Astrid stumbled out of the fireplace and nearly tripped over her trunk. Straightening, she moved out of the way of the next person and looked around. She was standing in front of a row of fireplaces, and all around her the other first years were dusting themselves off and looking around in bewilderment.

They were in a drafty stone building, the only purpose of which seemed to be providing shelter should it rain. Ten large carriages waited outside, each pulled by two large Granian horses, who tossed their heads and flapped their wings excitedly. She counted sixteen prefects milling around, four from each house, and saw just one professor, a tall, barrel chested man with a wild red beard.

“Astrid!”

It was Emil; he had already found Tuva, their cousin on the Norwegian side, and Adrianos, a Greek cousin. She dragged her trunk over to join them and the four of them huddled together and observed their fellow students. Most were clumped together in small groups like they were, likely by nationality; some had their capes on wrong and were hastily trying to fix it.

“Welcome, Durmstrang first years!”

Astrid jumped as the professor’s booming voice swept over them. All sixty first years turned to face him.

“I am Professor Dahlberg!” he thundered in a strong Swedish accent. “Please load your trunks onto the back of one of the carriages! Six to a carriage!” Several students nudged each other and whispered, not understanding, and he repeated himself in multiple languages, though just as loudly each time.

Astrid and the others strapped their trunks to the back of a carriage and hopped in one by one. They were joined by a Greek girl who introduced herself as Konstantina Sarriade and a Swede named Lars Magnusson. Konstantina explained that she couldn’t find any other Greeks, but Lars just hopped into the carriage and barely remembered to introduce himself.

Two prefects got in the front of the carriage, and then the wheels began to turn. Tuva gave a little scream as the carriage lurched into the air, the Granian horses flying fast and high in the air.

They couldn’t see much through the windows. A heavy fog obscured the ground and they were nearly among the clouds.

“This is wild,” muttered Adrianos, and Astrid couldn’t agree more. No one had much to say as they soared through the air.

Quicker than she expected, they began to descend, until the ground came into sharp relief. She was expecting a harsh landing but it was surprisingly smooth. Emil opened the door once they had come to a full stop, and as they got out, they found themselves staring up at Durmstrang Institute.

“Leave your trunks where they are!” called Professor Dahlberg. “This way!”

He was standing on the end of a flat, wide bridge that led up to the castle, providing a way across the moat that surrounded the castle. The first years nervously followed him, trying to avoid thinking about what might be lurking in the water.

It was an imposing fortress of stone, four stories tall with a tower at each corner. The real beauty lay in the grounds themselves: they were surrounded by mountains and saw not one but two lakes. Quidditch hoops marked a large pitch and there were greenhouses lined up next to the castle. There was a stable on the other side, and large pastures that likely held more than horses.

The first years followed Professor Dahlberg up the front steps of the castle and inside, their footsteps echoing on the stone floor. Torches mounted along the walls sprang to life as the great oak doors swung shut behind them.

“Welcome to Durmstrang Institute!” said Professor Dahlberg. “The rest of the school will arrive after lunch, and tonight will be the Start-of-Term banquet. While at Durmstrang, you are expected to uphold the honor of this school. Durmstrang has commanded respect from the wizarding world for centuries. You must adhere to our rules and understand the importance of discipline. You will soon learn the rules that govern this institution, and you are to uphold them whether you are in class or not. Any breach of conduct will result in immediate punishment.”

The first years gulped nervously.

“At the end of this year, you will be chosen to join one of the four houses: Volkovio, Korolevskiy, Knigav, or Skuchnyy. Each house has its own noble history, and many great witches and wizards have come from Durmstrang. It is your performance as a first year that decides which house you belong in.”

Professor Dahlberg’s eyes swept over the first years, who were growing more anxious by the second. He smiled, though it did little to ease their nerves or make him look less wild.

“For now, you will be taken on a tour of the school led by our student heads,” he said. “We have divided you by nationality for the tour to ensure that you understand what is being said to you. At the end of the tour, you will be taken to your dorms. Lunch will be served in the banquet hall at eleven. Off you go!”

“Norwegians! Over here!”

Astrid was glad to see her brother Basile as one of their tour guides. The other was a short, dark haired girl with a round, friendly face. There were eight Norwegians in total, and once Basile and the girl, who introduced herself as Johanna Gaardner, had made sure they were all there, they set off up the nearest staircase on the left.

Aside from herself, her brother, and her cousin, there were three other boys and two girls. One had an air of haughtiness around her, the kind that came from a wealthy upbringing, while the other girl stared at the castle around them with narrowed eyes, her mouth set in a slight smirk.

“As we go up the stairs, notice the tower to your left,” Basile was saying. “It is home to the students of Korolevskiy.”

“Korolevskiy is the smallest of the four houses,” put in Johanna. “Founded in the late Renaissance by wizarding nobility, it only accepts purebloods and is viewed as the elitist house, with good reason. Their mascot is the arctic fox and their colors are white and blue. Less than ten students are chosen for Korolevskiy each year.”

“I’ll take any house as long as it’s _not_ Korolevskiy,” muttered the girl beside Astrid, still smirking with her arms crossed.

Tuva, on Astrid’s other side, looked deeply offended and scowled at the girl; Astrid knew it was her ambition to be chosen for Korolevskiy like her mother. The girl looked almost pleased at the reaction her remark had gotten. Astrid, on the other hand, half smiled at her.

“I’m Astrid,” she said, while Basile was pointing out the Hospital Wing and ballroom below them as they climbed the stairs.

“I know,” said the girl, her eyes flicking up to meet Astrid’s. “I’m Helle. Helle Myhr.”

“This is the Etiquette classroom,” said Johanna, drawing their attention back to the tour, “and next to it is the Magical Theory classroom. Etiquette is taught only to Korolevskiy students and Magical Theory is taught to Knigav students like me.”

“Here we have the upper floor of the library, next to the Knigav tower,” said Basile, turning right. “Knigav is the second oldest house, and prides themselves on producing scholars. Their mascot is the owl and their colors are grey and purple.”

Johanna led them to a wooden door that had no handle. “Here is the first year common room and the girls’ dorms. The boys dorms are on the third floor, but are connected to the common room by a staircase. The dormitory is password protected. The current password is ‘Diligence.’ Simply say the password and the door will open.”

“So Helle,” said Astrid, as Basile pointed out the Charms classrooms next, “which of the other three houses would you prefer?”

“Knigav sounds cool,” replied Helle, “or Skuchnyy, to annoy my parents. What about you?”

Before she could reply, Basile said, “Here is the Skuchnyy tower. Skuchnyy, the newest house, is only a few centuries old and tends to attract creative types. It also has the largest number of halfbloods. Their mascot is the hare and their colors are brown and orange. Don’t let anyone tell you this house is lesser than the others, because the students of Skuchnyy are and should be just as proud as the other three houses.”

They moved on to the three Potions classrooms, with Johanna pointing out that they were above the three Duelling rings, and Astrid was able to answer Helle’s question.

“Nearly everyone in my family has been in either Volkovio or Korolevskiy for generations.”

“And do you want to be like your family?” asked Helle. “I certainly don’t.”

Astrid was quiet for a moment. “It wouldn’t be a bad thing.”

“Last but certainly not least,” said Johanna, “this is the Volkovio tower. Originally when Durmstrang was founded it was only one house, Volkovio, which is why the school colors are black and red, the same as Volkovio’s house colors. Their mascot is the dire wolf. While Korolevskiy is viewed as the elitist house, Volkovio is the hardest to get into and its students often exemplify what the rest of the wizarding world perceives Durmstrang to be.”

The last three classrooms on the second floor were for Occlumency & Legilimency, which Basile explained only sixth and seventh years in Volkovio, Korolevskiy, and Knigav got to take, and two Transfiguration classrooms. Then they headed up the stairs and were shown the Art and Music classroom, the Advanced Healing room, and the Alchemy classroom.

Their guides explained that many classes offered at Durmstrang were only for one or two of the houses, besides the main core classes, which were Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, History of Magic, Offensive & Defensive Magic, Magical Flora & Fauna, and Physical Education. All of the houses in all of the years took a version of these seven classes. As first years, they would also take Flying, Language Studies (to ensure that they all spoke some level of English, Norwegian, and Swedish, which were the three most common languages used at Durmstrang), and something called Discipline & Decorum.

“This class will help you get accustomed to the rules and values of Durmstrang,” said Basile as they passed the second floor of the first year dorms and the Ancient Runes and Magical Literature classrooms. They rounded the corner at the Skuchnyy tower and were shown the Divination & Arithmancy classroom and then both of the Offensive & Defensive Magic rooms. After passing the Volkovio tower and seeing the History of Magic rooms and the Astronomy classroom, they were led upstairs to the fourth and final floor of Durmstrang.

The only classes on the fourth floor were the two Language Studies rooms; sandwiched between them was the staff lounge. The rest of the floor was occupied by professors’ offices and private rooms, and the Headmaster’s office itself. Their guides showed them how to get onto the roof for nighttime Astronomy, a class they would take starting in second year, but did not take them up.

As Basile and Johanna brought them back down to the second floor so they could enter and explore their common room and dorms, Basile said, “Don’t forget: Monday through Friday, the entire school gathers in the front courtyard at six in the morning for a workout, before breakfast at seven. This counts as your Physical Education class. Make sure to get a good night of sleep tonight so you’ll be ready for your first day tomorrow.”

“Lunch is at eleven. The Start-of-Term banquet begins at five-thirty,” said Johanna. With that, they were left alone.

The eight first years entered their common room, finding that about half of their fellow first years had returned. A fire crackled in the hearth, and the cold stone floor in front of it was covered by a carpet and surrounded by cushy armchairs and sofas. There were several tables on one side of the room, complete with more armchairs around a second fire. The room looked far more comfortable than any they had seen at Durmstrang so far.

Astrid found her name on the second of six doors and opened it to find another girl already inside. She had black hair in a tight bun and was busy unpacking. Astrid found her own trunk at the foot of one of the beds and began to do the same

“Mianie zavuć Anastasija Hareckaja,” said the girl when she noticed Astrid.

“Anastasiya Harecki?” repeated Astrid, and Anastasiya nodded. “Belarusian?”

Anastasiya nodded again.

“I’m Astrid,” said Astrid. “Astrid Andreassen-Zall. I’m from Norway.”

Anastasiya tilted her head thoughtfully. “Narviehija,” she said, and it was Astrid’s turn to nod.

It was going to be a long year if they couldn’t understand each other.

The door opened just as Astrid was putting her uniform away, and in came a slim girl with short brown hair.

“Ich bin Theresa Fritzl aus Österreich,” she said, shutting the door behind her. Her shoulders were tense and she looked at Astrid and Anastasiya with wide eyes.

“Austria!” said Astrid rather excitedly, with the hopes that Theresa spoke or at least understood some English. “I am Astrid Andreassen-Zall, from Norway.”

Theresa relaxed at once. “Nice to meet you Astrid,” she replied in English.

Anastasiya perked up as well. “I am Anastasiya Harecki,” she said after a moment, her r’s rolling slightly. “I do not speak much English. I speak Belarusian and Russian.”

“I speak English, Norwegian, Swedish, Danish, and French,” said Astrid, while Theresa said, “I speak English and German.”

The door opened once more, and in came their final dorm member.

“Olen Marita Penttinen,” she said. She had curly strawberry blonde hair and came in with a confident smile.

“Pratar du engelska?” asked Astrid in Swedish. Nearly all Finns spoke Swedish and many also spoke at least a little English.

“Yes, I speak some English,” said Marita, smiling even wider.

“My name is Astrid Andreassen-Zall,” said Astrid, “and this is Anastasiya Harecki and Theresa Fritzl.”

There was hope, at least, that the four girls would be able to converse in English, and Astrid had a sneaking suspicion that that was the goal of putting them together in a dorm all along. She knew English was, along with Norwegian and some Swedish, the predominantly spoken language at Durmstrang in terms of teaching, and what better way for them to learn than out of necessity?

An hour later, and the four of them joined the rest of the first years as they headed downstairs for lunch. The banquet hall was vast and empty, filled with trestle tables that could seat ten people each. Large, arched windows graced the other end of the hall, behind a long table on a raised platform.

“Don’t sit there!” exclaimed one of the prefects when a group of boys tried to sit down at one of the tables in the middle. They immediately leapt up, looking scared and confused.

“There’s sort of a hierarchy to the tables,” explained another prefect in a gentler voice. “Some of the older students, particularly those in Volkovio and Korolevskiy, are rather… _protective_ of where they sit at mealtimes. Basically, the tables in the middle of the hall are off limits.”

“First years sit over _there_ ,” said a third prefect in a snotty voice, pointing to a cluster of tables off to one side.

“There was probably a nicer way to say that,” said the second prefect with an exasperated sigh, “but yes, anywhere near the edge of the hall or the dais is open to first years.”

Astrid and Marita headed towards the front of the room, picking a table a little ways away from the stone steps leading up to the dais.

“Princess Astrid?” asked a low, gruff voice before Astrid could sit down, and she turned to see a rough faced man looking down at her. “King Erik’s granddaughter?”

“Headmaster Grimsrud!” she squeaked, bowing slightly to him. She recognized him from pictures her grandfather had shown her, and she might have even met him once or twice when she was little. She could see some of the other first years pointing at her and whispering after what the Headmaster had said. “How do you do?”

Though his face was not unkind, it was weathered and, combined with his stern expression and the way he loomed over students, it made him look extremely intimidating. He had looked at her with hard, inscrutable eyes, and finally said, with the barest hint of a smile, “Welcome to Durmstrang.”

Then he turned and sauntered up to the dais to the high table. Astrid slumped a little with relief and dropped into a seat. She could still see a few students pointing and whispering at her, and she heard the word for princess in several languages. Marita had left to join some Swedes, so the next person to sit down was Emil, with no less than three boys in tow.

One, Leif Saltvig, was a Norwegian like they were. He was a tall brown haired boy with a wide smile. The other two, Christoffer Damgaard and Nikolai Kristiansen, were Danes.

“So that’s the Headmaster,” said Emil, as other professors began to pour in and join the Headmaster on the dais.

Helle, the girl Astrid had met on the tour, dropped into the seat next to her with barely a word of greeting. At this point, a large platter of sandwiches appeared on all the occupied tables, and the students helped themselves.

“How’s your dorm?” asked Emil, downing half of his sandwich in three bites.

“I’ve got a Finn, an Austrian, and a Belarusian,” said Astrid. “They speak basic to moderate English. What about you?”

Emil made a face. “I’m sure they’re nice enough, but we can barely understand each other. I’ve got a Finn as well, and we talked a bit in Swedish, and there’s a German whose English is pretty good, but I also have a Latvian.”

“That’s the goal, isn’t it?” said Helle, speaking for the first time. They all looked at her. She swallowed a bite of her sandwich and said, “I mean, they want us to learn English, don’t they? So if that’s the only language we share with our dormmates, it’s the one we have to use.”

The boys all nodded in agreement. Astrid smiled at Helle and said, “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

Lunch passed uneventfully, and when it was over the first years headed back to their common room so they’d be there when all the other students started to arrive.

That night, at precisely five-thirty, they all sat down to dinner in the now packed banquet hall. The first years quickly learned not to sit until the Headmaster did, at which time the tables in front of them filled with food. They piled their plates with bread, meat, fish, and potatoes. Some students ladled hearty stews onto their plates while others added slices of cheese, and they all tucked into dinner.

When they had all eaten as much as they wanted, their plates cleared and the remaining food disappeared, to be replaced by a selection of fruit, pies, pastries, and cakes. Astrid took a slice of strawberry apple pie, which was still warm, and spooned some whipped cream on top before digging in.

At last, when the desserts too disappeared, the Headmaster rose from his seat. The hall went quiet immediately, without so much as a lingering whisper, and the Headmaster began to speak.

“Welcome,” he said, “to another year at Durmstrang Institute. As you all know, classes will begin tomorrow. The bells will ring at five thirty, and all students are expected to be in the front courtyard by six. For second through seventh years, speak to your Head of House if you wish to try out for one of your house’s Quidditch teams. Schedules will be handed out at breakfast tomorrow morning. We have no changes in staff this year, and all of our professors and I feel confident in their teaching. The upcoming year looks to be a promising one, and you are all expected to fulfill that promise.”

“Students are reminded that they must adhere to our school rules at all times. We welcome our first years —” his eyes swept over them “— and hope that they, like their classmates and so many before them, will represent Durmstrang with pride and will learn the values of discipline, control, and honor that are of vital importance to this school. That is all.”

With that, they were dismissed.

Now full, the first years trudged back upstairs to their dormitories, where they read books, played games, or simply sat in front of the fire until they were worn out, and headed one by one to bed. There were few words to be shared at this point, besides a muttered _goodnight_ as one of them practically fell into bed.

Astrid put on her pajamas and slipped under the covers. Each bed was covered in several blankets, including a woolly one that seemed to be made out of fur, all intended to keep out the nighttime chill. She listened as her roommates fell asleep one by one: Marita was asleep almost instantly, Theresa gently snored, and Anastasiya’s breathing gradually slowed until she too was asleep. With the curtains drawn over the windows to make the room even darker and the blankets making her feel warm and cozy, Astrid fell asleep.

Tomorrow she would wake early in the morning and start her first day at Durmstrang Institute, but for now she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.


	4. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Having spent much of the train ride gorging themselves on candy, the four boys now realized that, as the train began to slow, they had not yet changed into their Hogwarts robes. Just as they did so, a voice echoed through the train.

“We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes’ time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately.”

Out the window, it was getting dark, and they saw mountains and forests under a deep purple sky. In the compartment, Sirius got more and more anxious the closer they got to Hogwarts. A glance at the other boys told him that Remus had gone pale, making his scars stand out even more, and that Peter’s chin was trembling as he wrung his hands nervously in his lap. Even James looked a little nervous, his smile now a little strained.

Sirius took a deep breath and told himself that it would be alright, that it was just nerves, but he wasn’t so sure.

They crammed their pockets with the last of the sweets and joined the crowd thronging the corridor. The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out onto a tiny, dark platform, shivering in the cold night air. Then a lamp came bobbing over the students, and a big, hairy face stared down at them over a sea of heads.

It belonged to a giant of a man with a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard. They could just make his eyes, glinting like black beetles under all that hair. He was twice as tall as the average man and three times as wide. His frightening appearance was offset by his beaming smile and kind, if rather gruff, voice.

“Firs’ years! Firs’ years over here! C’mon, follow me — anymore firs’ years? Mind yer step now! Firs’ years follow me!”

Slipping and stumbling, they followed this giant man down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side that there must have been thick trees all around them.

Nobody spoke much, but James whispered, “He must be a half-giant! He’s huge!”

“Ye’ all get yer first sight o’ Hogwarts in a sec,” the giant called over his shoulder, “jus’ round this bend here.”

There was a loud “Oooooh!”

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black take. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

Now that they were seeing the castle, the four boys felt, if anything, more excited. James was at ease once again, and stared eagerly up at Hogwarts.

“It’s magnificent,” breathed Remus. Sirius agreed. The castle was simply stunning.

“No more’n four to a boat!” the giant man called, pointing to a little fleet of boats docked by the shore.

James and Sirius got in first, followed by Remus and Peter, who squeaked when James rocked the boat, a devilish grin on his face. Sirius joined in, and both Remus and Peter protested, clutching the sides of the boat for dear life. It was only when they nearly tipped over did James and Sirius subside. Remus, who had been splashed during the commotion, wrung out his robe with narrowed eyes.

“Everyone in? Right then — FORWARD!”

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

“There’s s’pposed to be a squid in the lake,” said Sirius, leaning dangerously out of the boat and peering into the dark, rippling water. “But I don’t see any sign of it.”

“Forget the squid!” said James. “Look!”

They all looked up at the castle, which they had an even better view of now. The light of the nearly full moon poured over the castle, making it look even more impressive.

“It’s huge!” said Peter.

“Heads down!” yelled the giant man as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles. Then they hurried up a passageway in the rock, following the giant man’s lamp, and came out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

“Everyone here?”

He raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

The door swung open at once, revealing a tall, black-haired witch in emerald green robes with a very stern face.

“The firs’ years, Professor McGonagall.”

“Thank you Hagrid,” she said. “I will take them from here.”

She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was enormous, with a ceiling too high to make out and flaming torches on the stone walls. Facing them was a magnificent marble staircase that led to the upper floors.

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. They could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right — the rest of the school must already be here — but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.

“Students!” she began, surveying them all from behind square spectacles.

“Professor!” shouted Sirius before she could continue, causing an outbreak of giggling. Professor McGonagall gave him a disapproving look before continuing.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” said Professor McGonagall. “Before you take your seats in the Great Hall and enjoy the welcome feast, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony. While here, your house will be like your family —”

“I hope not,” muttered Sirius. James laughed, and Professor McGonagall shot him a stern look.

“— As I was saying, you will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room. The four houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own proud history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards.”

“While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn you house points, while any rulebreaking will lose points.” She looked directly at James and Sirius. “I suggest some of you consider that. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house up, which is a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.”

“The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. Smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you wait.” Her eyes trailed over a cloak fastened incorrectly and a poorly tied tie. James ran a hand through his hair. “I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly.”

“All we have to do is try on a hat,” said Remus, more to himself than anyone else. He repeated the phrase several times in an effort to calm his nerves.

“Does the hat decide or do we get a say?” asked Peter.

“Dunno,” said Sirius. “My mother said the hat will put me in Slytherin whether I want it to or not, but I don’t believe her.” Or at least, he tried not to.

“I’d rather be anywhere but Slytherin,” said James. “I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn’t be too bad, and Hufflepuff’s alright, but I really want to be in Gryffindor.”

Before any of the others could reply, Professor McGonagall returned.

“Please form a line and follow me.”

James got in line behind a girl with waist length blonde hair. Sirius got into line behind him, with Remus next and Peter last. They followed Professor McGonagall out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

It was beautiful. Thousands of candles floated in midair over the four long tables where students sat, the tables laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall there was a long table where the teachers were sitting, and in the very middle was Albus Dumbledore, who they recognized from his chocolate frog card. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Above them was a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars, and a girl further down the line whispered, “It’s bewitched to look like the sky outside.”

It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn't simply open on to the heavens.

Sirius scanned the four house table. On the far left was Gryffindor, whose students looked excited and rambunctious and altogether _much_ more fun than the students at the Slytherin table on the far right. Amid them he saw two of his cousins, Andromeda and Narcissa, the former of whom caught his eye and grinned. Next to Gryffindor was the Ravenclaw table, draped in blue and bronze, and between Ravenclaw and Slytherin was Hufflepuff. Now that they were about to be sorted, Sirius was really starting to panic. He didn’t want to be in Slytherin.

By this time Professor McGonagall had placed a patched and fraying pointed wizard’s hat atop a small, four-legged stool. For a few seconds, there was silence, as everyone in the hall stared at the hat. Then a rip near the brim twitched and opened wide like a mouth, and the hat began to sing.

“It’s a terrible singer,” murmured James, trying to get Sirius to laugh. It worked, and Sirius clamped a hand quickly over his mouth.

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

Sirius heard Remus whisper, “We’ve just got to try on the hat!” again behind him as Professor McGonagall stepped forward, holding a long roll of parchment.

“When I call your name, you will sit on the stool and put on the hat to be sorted into your houses.” She adjusted her spectacles and called the first name. “Andrews, Wendy!”

A black haired girl, her face flushed, stumbled out of line and put on the hat, which fell right over her eyes. She sat down. A moment’s pause —

“RAVENCLAW!” shouted the hat.

The Ravenclaw table cheered and clapped as Wendy went to sit down.

“Avery, Joseph!” quickly became a Slytherin, followed shortly by “Aubrey, Bertram!” and Sirius’s stomach jolted. He was starting to feel sick now, and he knew that his name wasn’t far off.

“Bagman, Otto!” became a Hufflepuff, as did “Baxter, Jane!”

“Black, Sirius!”

Feeling as if he might pass out at any moment Sirius, with a little prod from James, walked up to the Sorting Hat like a man on death row. He jammed the hat on his head, and immediately heard the hat start to make a decision.

_Slyth—_

_DON’T. YOU. DARE_ , thought Sirius as hard as he could, before the hat could even finish its thought.

 _Suit yourself_ , said the small voice in his ear, and a moment later “GRYFFINDOR!” thundered through the hall.

James gave him a thumbs up as Sirius hurried to sit down, feeling as if a great weight had been lifted from him. While the Gryffindor table clapped and cheered, he saw many family friends at the Slytherin looking shocked, and had no doubt that his parents would know what house he was in by morning. This did little to diminish his enthusiasm, however, and Sirius couldn’t stop a grin from spreading across his face as he turned back to the sorting and watched “Boardman, Stubby!” get sorted into Hufflepuff.

Sometimes, Sirius noticed, the hat was quick at deciding where to put students, as “Burbage, Charity!” had barely sat down before being sorted into Ravenclaw, but other times the hat took longer to decide. “Catchlove, Greta!” sat on the stool for a whole minute before the hat declared her a Ravenclaw as well.

“Chittock, Glenda!” was sorted into Hufflepuff and then Professor McGonagall called “Evans, Lily!”

She emerged from the line beside Severus, the sallow faced boy from the train. Sirius watched as she walked up to the stool on trembling legs. Professor McGonagall dropped the Sorting Hat onto her head, and barely a second after it had touched her dark red hair, the hat cried, “GRYFFINDOR!”

Lily took off the hat, handed it back to Professor McGonagall, then hurried toward the cheering Gryffindors, but as she went she glanced back at Severus, and there was a sad little smile on her face. Sirius moved up the bench to make room for her, but she took one look at him and, upon recognizing him from the train, folded her arms and firmly turned her back on him.

The sorting progressed fairly quickly for a while. “Gibson, Harriet!” became a Hufflepuff and “Gillespie, Andrew!” became a Ravenclaw. It took only seconds before “Gudgeon, Davey!” joined Harriet and was soon followed by “Henderson, Albi!”. “Hookum, Daisy!” high fived Greta Catchlove as she joined her in Ravenclaw.

“Lightwood, Alice!” had the hat on her head for more than a minute before it deemed her a Gryffindor, and she sat down next to Lily with a smile.

“Lovegood, Xenophilius!” was a skinny, pale boy with stringy white blond hair, but he was sorted into Ravenclaw almost instantly.

“Lupin, Remus!”

Sirius could have sworn that when Remus’s name was called Professor Dumbledore leaned forward.

Remus’s eyes were closed and his hands were clenched as the hat mused over where to put him, but he didn’t have to wait long.

“GRYFFINDOR!” declared the hat.

Before it was pulled from his head Remus thought, _Are you sure?_

 _YES_ , came the hat’s reply.

Remus jogged down to join Sirius, who was beaming, and slid into the seat across from him and gave him a high five.

“Glad to have you,” said Sirius, as “Macdonald, Mary!” became a Gryffindor and sat down next to Remus.

“Happy to be here,” Remus replied, grinning like mad.

The blonde girl next to James (“McKinnon, Marlene!”) was called, and after less than a minute of deliberation she joined Gryffindor, sitting down next to Mary with a grin. “Mcnair, Jessica!” became a Slytherin and then “Meadowes, Dorcas!” became a Gryffindor.

Less than half of the line remained now, as “Meadowes, Pandora!” became a Ravenclaw and “Mulciber, Margaret!” joined Jessica in Slytherin.

“Pettigrew, Peter!”

Peter sat on the stool for five minutes without the hat making so much as a sound. It opened its brim a couple of times, but never made a decision, until at last —

“GRYFFINDOR!”

With a look of enormous relief, Peter hopped off of the stool and jogged over to the Gryffindor table, where Mary and Marlene scooted down so he could squeeze in next to Remus.

“Potter, James!”

Sirius wasn’t sure if the hat had even touched James’s head before it shouted “GRYFFINDOR!”

Amid much cheering and whistling, James beamed as he sat down next to Sirius, who grinned as he thumped him on the back.

“All right, Evans?” said James to Lily, who shot him a look of firm dislike and immediately turned back around to talk to Alice.

“Rosier, Elizabeth!” and “Rosier, Evan!” became Slytherins in quick succession, followed by “Purkiss, Doris!” into Hufflepuff.

“Shacklebolt, Kingsley!”

As a member of the sacred twenty-eight pureblood families (which, for the record, Sirius thought was a load of rubbish) he expected Kingsley to be sorted into Slytherin. Instead, after nearly two minutes of silence, the hat shouted “GRYFFINDOR!” and Kingsley took his seat next to Alice. Sirius had never seen him at any of his parents’ terrible parties, and he supposed that if he, Sirius Black, could become a Gryffindor, anyone could.

Well, just about anyone.

After “Shingleton, Gaspard!” was sorted into Ravenclaw and “Smith, Florence!” into Hufflepuff, there were only a handful of students left. Professor McGonagall called out, “Snape, Severus!”

The sallow faced boy walked up to the stool and placed the hat on his head. “SLYTHERIN!” cried the hat.

With one last glance towards Lily, Severus sat down at the Slytherin table. Lucius Malfoy, a prefects’ badge gleaming on his chest, greeted him and patted him on the back.

There were only half a dozen students left between them and the end of the sorting ceremony.

“Thomas Henry!”

“RAVENCLAW!”

“Toots, Tilden!”

“‘Toots?’” sniggered James, his eyes wide. He and Sirius burst into peals of laughter as Tilden was sorted into Hufflepuff. Their laughter didn’t subside until “Vane, Edward!” followed Henry into Ravenclaw.

“Warrington, Philip!” became a Slytherin, and so did “Wilkes, Ruth!”. “Zabini, Blair!” became the third in a row to be sorted into Slytherin and was, thankfully, the last student to be sorted. The four boys were so hungry that they could hardly wait any longer for dinner. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away.

Albus Dumbledore got to his feet. He beamed down at them all over half-moon spectacles.

“Welcome!” he said, his arms open wide. “Welcome to another — or for some of you, your first — year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. There will be time for speeches later, so for now, dig in!”

He sat back down, and everyone applauded as the dishes in front of them filled with food. There was roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs.

James moaned and loaded some of everything onto his plate. Talk slowed as they all began to eat. Sirius slathered a dinner roll in butter and practically inhaled it, while Remus ate slower, savoring each bite.

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later the desserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavor you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate eclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, Jell-O, rice pudding —

As James took an enormous slice of treacle tart and Sirius scooped trifle onto his plate, the talk turned to their families.

“I’m half and half,” said Remus, biting into a chocolate eclair. “My dad works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. My mum’s a muggle. She worked for an insurance company in Cardiff before they got married.”

“When’dyourdadtellher?” asked James through a mouthful of treacle tart. He swallowed and repeated the question. “When did your dad tell her?”

“They first met when he saved her from a Boggart,” said Remus. “She knew before they got married.”

They moved onto Peter, who talked about how his parents met when his mum worked at an ice cream parlor in Diagon Alley. Then they came to James, who boasted that his dad invented Sleekeasy’s Hair Potion and who was, like Peter and Remus, an only child. Finally the talk shifted to Sirius’s family.

“I’m a disappointment to them,” he said, shrugging.

“Don’t say that,” said Peter, frowning sadly.

“Oh but I am,” said Sirius, waving a spoon at him. “They want me to be prejudiced against muggleborns like they are. I _live_ to disappoint them, Peter.”

This caused them all to laugh.

At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.

“I just have a few more words to share before we all depart for bed,” he said. “Firstly, a tree known as a Whomping Willow has been planted on the grounds. As its name suggests, it will not hesitate to attack anyone who comes near it. I ask that you all exert great caution around the tree and do not attempt to approach.”

Sirius couldn’t imagine _why_ such a tree had been planted, but Dumbledore did not elaborate.

“Secondly, first years should note that the forest on the grounds is strictly forbidden to all. Our caretaker, Mr. Filch, has asked me once again to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Any student wishing to try out for their house team should contact their head of house. Tryouts will be held in the second week of term. And lastly, students are encouraged to take the next four days to familiarize themselves with the castle, so you will all know your way around by the time your classes start on Monday.”

“And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!” cried Dumbledore. He gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.

“Everyone pick their favorite tune!” said Dumbledore, “and off we go!”

James and Sirius exchanged a smirk before bellowing at the top of their lungs:

_Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,  
Teach us something please!  
Whether we be old and bald,  
Or young with scabby knees!  
Our heads could do with filling  
With some interesting stuff!  
For now they’re bare and full of air,  
Dead flies and bits of fluff!  
So teach us things worth knowing,  
Bring back what we’ve forgot!  
Just do your best, we’ll do the rest,  
And learn until our brains all rot!_

Everybody finished the song at different times. Dumbledore conducted the last few lines, and when they had all finished he clapped.

“Ah, music!” he said, wiping his eyes. “A magic beyond all we do here! Now, it’s time for bed! Goodnight all!”

The Gryffindor first years followed the prefects through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. It seemed to take an eternity, sleepy as they were after all of that delicious food. But they kept climbing up more and more staircases, twice passing through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries, yawning and dragging their feet the whole way. At last, at the very end of the corridor there hung a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.

“Password?” she said.

“Godric,” said one of the prefects, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cozy, round room full of squashy armchairs.

The prefects directed the girls through one door to their dormitory and the boys through another. At the top of a spiral staircase — they were obviously in one of the towers — they found their beds at last: five four-posters hung with deep red, velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up, and each boy found his and dragged it over to one of the beds. Too tired to talk much, they pulled on their pajamas and fell into bed.

Kingsley Shacklebolt bid them a quiet ‘goodnight’ and shut the curtains around his bed. One by one, the other boys fell asleep. All except for Sirius.

Sirius lay in bed grinning like mad.

He had made three new friends, he had months ahead of him without seeing his parents, and he had just been sorted into Gryffindor!

Sirius listened as James fell asleep first, snoring like a madman until Sirius reached over and whacked him. Peter’s snores were softer, and Remus and Kingsley didn’t snore at all. At last, still amazed at his luck, Sirius drifted off to sleep.


	5. The First Week

_ August 16th, 1971 _

Astrid woke at precisely five-thirty the next morning to the sound of bells clanging wildly. It was impossible to ignore, so loud that she covered her ears until the ringing stopped. Around her, the other girls groaned and got out of bed. They were expected downstairs in half an hour, so they had little time to waste.

The Durmstrang uniform consisted of a military style shirt tucked into a pair of pants. Their pants were belted around the waist and were in turn tucked into their boots. They each had a hooded cape for day to day use and a jacket to wear under the cape should they need it in the cold and windy weather. In winter they would also wear shaggy cloaks. For special occasions, like the welcome feast the day before, they had a formal uniform done in red and black, the school colors.

For students in the four houses, their capes matched their house colors, with the outside being black, white, grey, or brown and the inside being red, blue, purple, or orange, but as first years they didn’t belong to a house yet. As such, their capes were black and grey, and their capes, jackets, and shirts did not bear a house crest.

Astrid braided her hair into one long, tight plait, gazing at her reflection in the mirror. Mostly she stared at a long scar on her cheek that ran from her ear to nearly the corner of her mouth. It was one of many on her face and neck, shoulders and arms. Memories of a deep snarl, teeth snapping, and sharp claws glinting in the moonlight came to her. She winced.

“Astrid!” called Marita, snapping her back to the present.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts and hurried out of the bathroom, snatching her cape from the end of her bed and following the other girls out of the dorm.

The first years headed down the stairs, some still blinking sleep from their eyes, and joined the throng of students crossing the bridge and gathering in the courtyard where their carriages had landed the previous morning. Even without their capes, many of which had been taken off and set down with their bookbags, it wasn’t hard to distinguish which students were in what house.

The Volkovio students were by far the most muscular and the most physical. Many of the boys shoved each other as they waited for the class to begin. The older students, the fifth, sixth, and seventh years, waited with grim anticipation at the front of the crowd. The Korolevskiy students had all taken off their cloaks and folded them up, waiting impatiently with folded arms and tapping feet. There was the fewest number of them, which meant that they all stood together, making it easier to identify them.

By comparison, there were nearly three times as many Knigav students, nearly all of whom were yawning behind their hands. Some even looked angry that they were up this early to work out, but most just looked resigned. Lastly there were the Skuchnyy students, who muttered and murmured to each other, either complaining about the chilly morning and the work out they were being forced to do or discussing their newest ideas for a project.

The other first years were not hard to pick out, either, both because of their unmarked cloaks and nervous expressions, which were a mix of anxiety and exhaustion. They milled about nervously, yawning and wishing they were still asleep, slightly fearful of what they were about to do. None of them had any idea what to expect, which only served to heighten their nerves.

“Those bloody bells,” grumbled Helle, coming up beside Astrid. She wore a deep scowl and couldn’t keep herself from yawning.”

Soon enough, the professor arrived. He was an enormous man, towering even above most of the Volkovio students, and was nearly bald. The jagged scars that sliced across his face made him appear even more menacing and when he spoke his voice thundered over them.

“Students!” he bellowed, and all conversation ceased at once. “This is your first physical education class! You are expected to perform all tasks, as these workouts are intended to keep you in shape and each and every one of you should be able to complete them! Let’s begin!”

He led them through ten minutes of warmups and stretches. Helle grumbled the whole time, though largely about the time of day; Astrid could tell she didn’t mind the actual exercise.

“Over to the Quidditch Pitch!” shouted the professor. “Faster! Faster! Move!”

More than four hundred students jogged over to the Quidditch Pitch, with the professor shouting at them to speed up the whole way.

“Four laps!” he shouted. Several students groaned.

“A  _ mile _ ?” said one of the other first years incredulously.

But the professor wasn’t kidding.

Astrid broke into a run when she reached the pitch, and realized after about a lap that she was near the front of the pack. She was both surprised and pleased to see Helle still running alongside her. Astrid admired the view, as from here they could see the mountains in the distance, cast in a pinkish purple glow from the rising sun.

“Lovely morning, isn’t it?” she said to Helle as they entered the third lap.

“How are —” she puffed, “— you —”  _ puff _ “— so —”  _ puff _ “— goddamn —”  _ puff _ “— perky?”

Astrid shrugged, smiled, and ran on, entering her final lap. In front of her were many of the Volkovio students, a few Korolevskiy ones, and even one or two from Skuchnyy, but the large majority of the school was behind her. She finished the mile with Helle right behind her, but it was more than five minutes before everyone else had finished. A few of the first years and several of the older students looked near collapse as they staggered over the finish line.

After the mile, the professor ordered them to drop and do thirty pushups, and he counted them through each one. They were put through their paces with crunches, squats, jumping jacks, burpees, and more, and nearly everyone was breathing heavily by the time they had finished, but they weren’t done yet.

“You may leave!” shouted the professor. “When you have finished four more laps!”

A groan rose from the students but nevertheless they ran a second mile, many doing so much slower than they had the first one. When at last they had finished — Astrid and Helle in seven minutes — they headed back into the castle for breakfast.

Breakfast was served on large platters and steaming dishes, with pitchers of milk and juice at intervals along each of the many tables. Astrid stirred a spoonful of sugar and cinnamon into her oatmeal and heaped fruit on top, while Helle went straight for the cheese.

Near the end of breakfast, the professors began to hand out schedules. Astrid was handed hers by a severe woman in deep blue robes.

**Schedule for: Astrid Andreassen Zall**

| 

Monday

| 

Tuesday

| 

Wednesday

| 

Thursday

| 

Friday  
  
---|---|---|---|---|---  
  
6:00-7:00

| 

Physical Education

| 

Physical Education

| 

Physical Education

| 

Physical Education

| 

Physical Education  
  
7:00-7:30

| 

Breakfast

| 

Breakfast

| 

Breakfast

| 

Breakfast

| 

Breakfast  
  
7:40-8:40

| 

Charms

| 

Transfiguration

| 

History of Magic

| 

Magical Flora & Fauna

| 

Language Studies  
  
8:50-9:50

| 

Discipline & Decorum

| 

Transfiguration

| 

Offensive & Defensive Magic

| 

Free

| 

Language Studies  
  
10:00-11:00

| 

Flying

| 

Free

| 

Offensive & Defensive Magic

| 

Potions Lecture

| 

Discipline & Decorum  
  
11:00-11:50

| 

Lunch

| 

Lunch

| 

Lunch

| 

Lunch

| 

Lunch  
  
11:50-12:50

| 

Free

| 

Language Studies

| 

Transfiguration Lecture

| 

Charms

| 

History of Magic  
  
1:00-2:00

| 

Offensive & Defensive Magic

| 

History of Magic

| 

Study Hall

| 

Charms

| 

Offensive & Defensive Magic Lecture  
  
2:10-3:10

| 

Potions

| 

Free

| 

Free

| 

Potions

| 

Free  
  
3:20-4:20

| 

Potions

| 

Magical Flora & Fauna

| 

Discipline & Decorum

| 

Transfiguration

| 

Magical Flora & Fauna Lecture  
  
4:30-5:30

| 

Free

| 

Magical Flora & Fauna

| 

Free

| 

Flying

| 

Free  
  
5:30-6:30

| 

Dinner

| 

Dinner

| 

Dinner

| 

Dinner

| 

Dinner  
  
_ Notes: _

_ Professors and room assignments can be found on the back. _

_ All Transfiguration Lectures take place in the Banquet Hall. _

_ Students must report to the first floor of the library for Study Hall. _

_ Students may spend free periods in their common rooms, the library, or exploring the grounds but should not be disruptive to classes in session. _

“Looks like we have Charms… Language Studies… Magical Flora & Fauna… Transfiguration… Flying… and Offensive & Defensive Magic together,” said Emil, comparing his schedule to Astrid’s. “And we should probably head to Charms, seeing as we need to grab our books from the common room first.”

“What exactly is ‘Discipline & Decorum?’” asked Helle, also comparing her schedule to Astrid’s.

Astrid shrugged. “I don’t know. But I’ll see you there. In the meantime, have fun in Language Studies!”

She and Emil headed upstairs to the first year dorms to grab their bags before heading two doors down to their charms class. The professor, a slim woman with dark brown hair, was seated at her desk, and only a few of their classmates had arrived. The desks were arranged in five rows of six, and the opposite wall was occupied by a row of windows.

“Please wait against the wall,” said the professor when they entered.

Marita was in this class, noticed Astrid, as was a Norwegian girl named Brita, who seemed hesitant to talk to her but was friendly enough. Soon the bell rang, though it was much softer than the ones that had woken them up. The professor stood and waved her wand, causing a piece of chalk to jump up from the chalkboard.

“I am Professor Stroheim,” she said, and the chalk wrote the words on the board behind her. “You will have noticed that my words are copied onto the chalkboard, which is charmed to appear in whatever language you are most comfortable in. This is to ensure that, as many of you have not yet learned English or Norwegian, you understand everything I say.”

Professor Stroheim pointed at the first desk. “I will now seat you alphabetically. Lorenzo Aeberli.”

An olive skinned boy ducked out of line and hurried to take a seat.

“Princess Astrid,” said Professor Stroheim next, and again there was an outbreak of muttering as Astrid sat next to Lorenzo. “Valentin Aeberli.”

Lorenzo’s identical twin took up the seat on her other side, with a girl named Vibeke Bendixen next to him and Emil at the end of the row. That was how they were seated, with three boys and two girls in every row, until all the desks were filled. Then Professor Stroheim instructed them to pull out their copies of  _ An Introduction to Charms _ by Isadore Valebrokk.

“This year,” she said, “we will be covering topics such as levitation, wand lighting and extinguishing, locking and unlocking, mending, severing, and fire making, among others. You will be tested regularly to gauge your progress, and at the end of the year you will sit an exam. Your score on the exam combined with your attitude and performance in this class will determine which house I recommend you for, which will affect which house you end up in. Now, open your books to chapter one.”

She sat back down behind her desk. “First, let us discuss the difference between Charms and Transfiguring Spells. A charm  _ adds  _ properties to an object or creature whereas a transfiguring spell will change it into something utterly different. Now, who can give me an example of a charm…”

When the bell rang and dismissed them an hour later, Astrid’s eyes were bright, having thoroughly enjoyed the class. She bid Emil goodbye as he headed upstairs for History of Magic and she headed down to one of the dueling rings to finally find out what Discipline & Decorum could entail.

“This class will ensure that you know Durmstrang’s rules and our code of conduct by heart,” said Professor Thorsen, who had barely bothered to introduce himself once class began. “You will learn to control yourself and your actions and to hold yourself and those around you to the high standards we have here at Durmstrang. If you do so correctly, you will not disgrace this school. Your ability to perform in this class bears significance on which house you will be chosen for.”

The first thing Professor Thorsen had them do was stand in five neat lines, and then he walked between them and corrected their posture. It seemed an absurdly specific thing to focus on, but he explained that they had to start from the beginning. Helle, who Astrid had only seen slouching thus far, threw back her shoulders and raised her chin. It made her look taller, and she made it through the class with minimal snarky remarks. Professor Thorsen was not someone to cross.

After that they had their first flying lesson, and all sixty first years headed out to the Quidditch Pitch. Professor Winther was surprisingly friendly, based on the teachers they had met so far, and he explained that the goal of this class was to get them all comfortable riding a broom, up to the point that they could hold scrimmage matches.

“Stick your right hand over your broom,” instructed Professor Winther. “And say ‘Up!’ with as much conviction as you can.”

“Up!” shouted the first years.

Astrid’s broom jumped into her hand immediately, as did Emil’s and both of her cousins’, but theirs were among the few who did. Helle’s was in her hands, but Anastasiya’s remained firmly on the ground. On Helle’s other side, a boy named Mikael’s broom nearly broke his nose as it jumped about but avoided his hand.

After several persistent minutes of effort and a number of reluctant brooms, everyone was holding one, and the next thing Professor Winther taught them how to do was mount their brooms.

“Grip it tightly,” he said, “so when you kick off from the ground you won’t slide off the end. Now, when I blow my whistle I want you five —” he pointed at the first five students “— to kick off  _ gently _ from the ground, hover for a moment, and then lean forward and touch back down. We’ll go five at a time to make sure none of you get hurt.”

He blew his whistle. Two of the students jumped and didn’t hover at all before dropping back to the ground, but they got it after a couple of tries. The other three managed it, with two of them landing gracefully and the third falling before he could land. Professor Winther proceeded down the line of students, helping five at a time, and Emil, Astrid, and Helle were all praised for having good form when it was their turn. Soon enough, the bell rang, and it was time for lunch.

Lunch was eaten with much discussion about the classes they had already had. So far, the first years had been in either Charms or Language Studies, History of Magic or Discipline & Decorum, and Flying, so it was those five classes that were the topics of conversation, as well as speculation about the others.

“We have a free period now,” said Astrid, checking her schedule when lunch ended. “I’m going to write a letter home. What about you?”

Helle shrugged. “I might look in the library. I’ll walk to the Owlery with you, if you want.”

“Sure!” said Astrid, grinning at her.

Astrid headed back to the first years’ common room and sat down at one of the desks, taking out her quill and ink and a piece of parchment. She thought for a moment about what she wanted to write, and in no time at all she had finished. She rummaged through her trunk to find her stamp, and sealed the envelope with red wax.

She headed downstairs, stopping in the library to find Helle, who was curled up in the back with her nose buried in a book about hexes.

“Finished your letter?” mumbled Helle without looking up.

“Still want to walk to the Owlery with me?” asked Astrid. Helle nodded and got up, sliding the book back into its place. “Why don’t you check it out?”

Helle shrugged and didn’t answer. She did that a lot.

Together they headed out of the castle, across the bridge, and through the courtyard. The owlery was a large tower near the stables, with ancient stones and nearly a hundred owls. Astrid and Helle climbed the winding staircase around the tower and up to the landing. Helle pet a pretty barn owl while Astrid coaxed a great horned owl down from the rafters and tied her letter to its leg. It hooted at her and flew off.

Their next class was Offensive & Defensive Magic, taught by Professor Linderoth, who was a frightening, broad shouldered witch with steely eyes and a sharp voice. Like Professor Stroheim, she had a seating chart, but there was no rhyme or reason to her chart. Astrid ended up in the third row, with Helle behind her and to the right and Emil at the start of the second row.

Professor Linderoth lectured them on the importance of defense in a duel and informed them that they would be dueling frequently in her class, as well as facing model attacks and practicing on dummies and even each other. She too reminded them of the house placements at the end of the year, before having them study the theory of the Knockback Jinx.

Their last class of the day was double potions, taught by Professor Zobor, a Hungarian wizard with a deep voice. He had them sit three to a table, and Astrid and Helle were joined by Tuva, who had not forgotten Helle’s disparaging remarks about Korolevskiy the day before but was determined to be friendly. They sat on Astrid’s either side as Professor Zobor introduced himself and instructed them to make a simple Cure for Boils.

He waved his wand and the instructions appeared on the board, exactly as it was written in their textbooks. Throughout the two hour class he moved among them to offer help should an instruction confuse them or their potion go wrong, and by the end everyone had managed to brew a vial of the potion. As the bell rang, Professor Zobor declared it a successful day.

They still had an hour before dinner, and most of the first years retired to their common room to play games, write to their parents, chat with one another about how their classes had gone, or read a book. Dinner was less formal than the night before, as they did not have to change into their red uniforms. Most of the first years remembered not to sit before the headmaster did, and they were served a similar spread of food as the night before, with slightly different dishes to add variety.

Exhausted from waking up so early and their first day and stuffed after a hearty dinner, it didn’t take long for the first years to fall asleep. Astrid sat awake in bed for some time, flicking slowly through a book she had found in the library. Eventually her eyelids grew heavy and she, like the other girls, fell asleep.

The rest of their first week of school flew by remarkably quickly.

Astrid soon learned that along with each teacher’s very distinct and very different style of teaching, they all called her by a different name. Some, like Professor Stroheim, called her Princess Astrid while others, such as Professor Thorsen, simply called her ‘Andreassen’. Some even referred to her by her surname but still called her ‘Your Highness’ when she answered a question.

There was one thing consistent about all the teachers, though, and that was that each and every one of them reminded the first years that their performance in class determined which house they belonged to.

Transfiguration quickly became one of Astrid’s favorite classes, though Professor Fosberg was very strict. She did manage to turn her match into a needle, however, and Professor Fosberg gave her an impressed nod. Language Studies was boring for her, but only because she already spoke all of the languages being taught. Professor Blomgren was, by far, the least intimidating teacher they had met at Durmstrang. Professor Dalgaard clapped his hands when History of Magic began, and jumped into a lesson with vigor. In Magical Flora & Fauna, they would be learning about magical plants, especially ones that could be used in potions, and a variety of beasts and creatures that lived around Durmstrang, either kept in the stables or roaming wild in the forest and lakes.

Her parents replied to her letter promptly, and she received their reply at breakfast on Tuesday. They were pleased to hear that she was doing well and said that they missed her very much. She put the letter on her nightstand.

On Wednesday they had History of Magic again, followed by double Offensive & Defensive Magic. After lunch they had a Transfiguration lecture from none other than Headmaster Grimsrud himself, followed by a study hall in the library. After a free period she had Discipline & Decorum, where Professor Thorsen spent the first ten minutes correcting their posture again before finally moving on to reciting Durmstrang’s school rules.

Thursday included another Magical Flora & Fauna lesson, a Potions lecture followed by a free period, double Charms, an actual Potions class, and Transfiguration. By the time they finished their second flying lesson, combined with their grueling Physical Education lesson from that morning — they had to climb ropes for twenty minutes — Astrid was exhausted, and she fell asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.

On Friday she received another letter from her parents, which joined the first on her nightstand. Though she spent double Language Studies rather bored, History of Magic woke her up with another rousing lecture from Professor Dalgaard. After lunch Professor Thorsen was pleased that they all had good posture, but he yelled at them as they continued to learn and recite the rules. She had an Offensive & Defensive Magic lecture and a free period, followed by a Magical Flora & Fauna lecture and another free period before dinner.

By the end of the week the first years were sore from days of exercise but were beginning to get accustomed to waking up so early, though none were a fan of the bells.

On Saturday, after a morning of blissful sleep — breakfast was served late to allow students time to sleep — most of the first years headed down to the Quidditch Pitch to watch tryouts for Volkovio’s three Quidditch teams. The team captain of each watched the entire batch of hopefuls try out and divided them based on skill.

Quidditch was a big deal at Durmstrang, so much so that the students weren’t limited to just one team per house. The opening match always took place the first weekend of September, so it was crucial that each house held tryouts soon so they could begin training. Volkovio had produced the most Quidditch players of any of the four houses, so it came as no surprise that they had three teams. True to form, the elitist students of Korolevskiy had just one team, while Knigav also had three and Skuchnyy only one.

Throughout the year, all seven teams played each other, and the team with the highest number of wins was awarded the Quidditch Cup. In the event of a tie, whichever team had scored the highest number of points won. Only once in the last three hundred years at Durmstrang had two teams tied exactly in their number of wins and point totals, and the tiebreaker match had ended with lots of tears, several broken bones, and a small fire.

“That’s what I want to do,” said Astrid to Helle as they watched the prospective chasers try and score. “Do you play Quidditch?”

“I’ve played,” said Helle. “I don’t love playing, but I like watching.”

“You’d be a good commentator,” said Astrid, her eyes glued to the tryouts.

Sunday was an easy day, where most students slept in again and they all caught up on homework from the first week. The first years went to bed comfortably, knowing they would be woken in the morning by harsh, clanging bells.

And early Monday morning, when the bells began to ring and the students began to groan, they climbed out of bed looking forward to the week ahead.


	6. The Marauders

_ September 2nd, 1971 — September 10th, 1971 _

In the days leading up their first day of class, the Gryffindor boys spent their time exploring as much of Hogwarts as they could. They couldn’t make it into any of the other common rooms, and they had yet to find the kitchens, but they had already been chased several times by the caretaker, a mean and bad tempered man named Argus Filch. James and Sirius did most of the poking around, with Remus and Peter following, feeling a mixture of excitement and apprehension. They didn’t see much of Kingsley, the fifth Gryffindor boy. He spent most of his time alone or with Ravenclaws Andrew Gillespie and Henry Thomas.

Remus was particularly fond of the library, and his eyes went as wide as saucers when he first saw it. James looked much the same when he beheld the Quidditch Pitch for the first time, but no matter how much he had begged his parents over the summer, they had not allowed him to bring his broom to Hogwarts.

For all four boys, Hogwarts was becoming home, and for the first time in each boy’s life they felt that they had found real friends. For James, who had spent most of his life alone in a mansion with his elderly parents, meeting the other three practically made his head spin with possibilities. For Sirius, who had been shut away with family he didn’t like, meeting James, Remus, and Peter brought him alive. For Remus, who had never had friends growing up because of his condition and who had constantly moved around, finding three friends who had instantly adopted him as one of their own was a miracle, even if the constant fear that they might discover his secret gnawed at him. And for Peter, who had always felt like the odd one out, having the other three, who always welcomed and included him, made him feel simply delighted.

Not everything was fun and games, however. Sirius had received rather an unpleasant letter from his parents, who were, in his words ‘the most unpleasant people you’d ever meet,’ in the form of a Howler — which was the most unpleasant way to receive a letter.

“SIRIUS!” his mother’s already shrill voice shrieked when he opened the angry red letter. “SIRIUS BLACK! YOU ARE A DISGRACE TO THE NAME OF BLACK. YOUR FATHER AND I WARNED YOU AND YET — GRYFFINDOR? YOU HAVE A LOT TO ANSWER FOR WHEN YOU COME HOME, MARK MY WORDS!”

With that, the letter snapped one final time at him then tore itself into shreds.

Sirius tried to play off the letter as if he was cool with it, but he had gone white and frozen in place. James clapped him on the back.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, “you can always come home with me.”

Brightening considerably at the thought, Sirius pushed the Howler out of his mind and none of them spoke of it again.

They had been at Hogwarts for less than a full day when, after an attempt to find the kitchens had gone horribly wrong and they somehow managed to release an entire flock of birds that the fifth year Transfiguration class was meant to be turning into opera glasses.

Professor McGonagall’s jaw dropped as she stared at her classroom, where a flock of formerly caged owls were hooting, flying around wildly, and causing general mayhem. The four culprits stood guiltily in the middle of the room, caught red-handed. She adjusted her spectacles, seemingly at a loss for words.

“Mr. Potter. Mr. Black. Mr. Lupin. Mr. Pettigrew,” she said crisply at last. “Would you care to explain this?”

“We were trying to find the kitchens, Professor,” said James confidently, while feathers rained down on them.

“And  _ why  _ were you looking for them in my classroom?”

They all shrugged. One of the owls pooped on her desk. Sirius giggled. James grinned. Remus and Peter only looked more afraid of Professor McGonagall.

“I suggest,” she said, her lips pursed, “that in the future you  _ marauders  _ do less exploring, if only to avoid the detention I am giving you. You have one hour to clean this up —” she pointed her wand at one of the desks and a bucket of soapy water and several sponges appeared “— and in the meantime, twenty points will be taken from Gryffindor. Each.”

It was their turn to gape as she swept out and shut the door firmly behind her.

“What did she call us?” asked Sirius, ducking out of the way before an owl could poop on his head.

“Marauders,” said Remus.

“We’re not just marauders,” declared James. “We’re  _ the  _ Marauders.”

He got an impressed reaction from Sirius in particular, but even Remus liked the name. They spent the next hour herding the disgruntled owls back into their cages, sweeping away feathers, and scrubbing bird poop off of desks.

They weren’t particularly popular in Gryffindor that evening, having lost eighty points and all, but a number of the other students found the story of what they had done highly amusing. James wouldn’t stop telling people that they were the Marauders, until Sirius finally got him to shut up.

That night, as they all drifted off to sleep, they distinctly heard James mutter ‘Marauders’ in his sleep, and Sirius had to clap a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing hard enough to wake James up.

And in the whole time leading up to their first day of class, Remus looked increasingly ill, but he shrugged it off and wouldn’t tell the others what was wrong. He refused to even go to Madam Pomfrey, until the night of September 5th, when he skipped dinner, told them he wasn’t feeling well, and didn’t come back to the dorm that night.

“Where’s Remus?” asked James the next morning, nearly dumping the entire jar of jam onto his toast. Sirius shrugged.

Soon enough, Remus entered the Great Hall, looking distinctly untidy and exhausted. He looked like he could fall asleep at any moment, even standing up.

“Rough night?” asked Sirius, when Remus practically collapsed onto the bench next to him. Remus didn’t answer as he reached for the pitcher of orange juice with shaky hands, nearly spilling it.

“You sue you’re alright mate?” asked James.

“I’m better now,” said Remus dismissively. Peter offered him a cinnamon roll, which he took gratefully.

At the end of breakfast, Professor McGonagall, the head of Gryffindor house, came down from the teachers’ table to pass out schedules.

“Looks like we have Herbology with the Hufflepuffs,” said James, “then double Transfiguration with the Ravenclaws… I hope McGonagall’s forgiven us… we did get it all cleaned up… then after lunch we have Defense Against the Dark Arts… ugh, with the Slytherins… then we have History of Magic with the Hufflepuffs and a free period before dinner!”

“We should go,” said Peter. “I don’t want to be late.”

“We have to get our books from the dorm,” added Remus.

Despite their detention, their exploring of the castle had paid off, because the Marauders now knew how to navigate through the many moving staircases and tricky doors with considerably more ease than their classmates.

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and the suits of armor could walk.

But once they managed to find them, the classes themselves were quite fun.

Herbology, for instance, was taught in the greenhouses behind the school by a squat, smiling witch named Professor Sprout. They learned how to take care of all the strange little plants and fungi and found out what they were used for.

The moment they sat down in Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall gave them a stern talking-to. She warned them about the complexities of Transfiguration and the punishment for messing around, before changing her desk into a pig and back again. They were all very impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but soon realized they weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time.

By the end of Transfiguration, after a host of complicated notes, only James had managed to transfigure his match into a needle. Professor McGonagall showed the rest of the class how his match had gone all shiny and pointy at the end, and she gave him a rare smile.

After lunch, they had Defense Against the Dark Arts, but they were disappointed by Professor Sparks; he was incredibly boring and his lessons were a bit of a joke. Easily the most boring class was History of Magic; Professor Binns, the only ghost professor, put Professor Sparks to shame. He had been very old indeed when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff room fire and got up the next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. Binns droned on and on while they scribbled down names and dates, and got Emetic the Evil and Uric the Oddball mixed up.

The next morning they had double Potions with the Slytherins, and Professor Slughorn spent the period singing Lily Evans’s praises after she brewed a perfect Forgetfulness Potion. He invited both James and Sirius along with Lily to join his ‘Slug Club.’

Sirius scoffed behind Slughorn’s back. “Like I want to hang out with a pureblood wizard who only wants me there because I’m also pureblood.”

“How about you and I go and play some pranks on him?” suggested James, his eyes lighting up. Sirius pretended to consider before heartily agreeing.

After Potions they had a free period, lunch, and a study hall, where James set off no less than four dungbombs under the Slytherin table, to Sirius’s amusement. Their last class on Tuesday was double Charms with the Ravenclaws, taught by a tiny little wizard named Professor Flitwick who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. Remus forbade James, Sirius, or Peter from asking if he was part goblin, thinking the question far too rude.

Wednesday morning, and the Marauders had the class that James in particular was really looking forward to: their first flying lesson.

The Gryffindors joined the rest of their year on the front lawn. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they approached the forty broomsticks layed out in neat lines. Many looked damaged and worn out from years of use, with twigs sticking out at odd angles, but that didn’t dim James’ enthusiasm. Their teacher was a hawkish woman with short, brown hair named Madam Hooch.

“I want everyone to stand beside a broom,” she said. “Come on, hurry up.”

The Marauders hurried to find four brooms next to each other and ended up between fellow Gryffindors Marlene McKinnon and Alice Lightwood and a couple of Hufflepuffs. Once everyone was lined up — James was practically bouncing up and down with excitement — Madam Hooch said, “Stic your right hand over your broom and say ‘UP.’ Don’t be shy!”

“UP!” shouted the first years.

James’ broom jumped into his hand at once, but not many did. Sirius’ did as well, and so did Marlene’s. Around them, Otto Bagman of Hufflepuff and a few of the Slytherins seemed to be the only other ones who had done it on the first try. Remus got his broom up after a second attempt, but Peter and Lily’s brooms remained firmly on the ground. Snape, the greasy haired boy next to Lily, had only managed to get his broom to roll over.

Once everyone’s brooms were firmly in their hands, Madam Hooch showed them how to mount their brooms and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips.

“When I blow my whistle,” she said, “you should kick off from the ground, hard. Try and keep your brooms steady as you rise  _ no more _ than a few feet from the ground, then lean forward to come back down. On my whistle — three… two… one…”

All of the first years kicked off from the ground, but only about half of them made it into the air. Several slipped and fell, while others just managed to hover. Peter clung to his broom for dear life and Remus did exactly as Madam Hooch had instructed: he kicked off, hovered for a moment or two, and then came straight back down. Nearly everyone who had managed to fly did the same, but James had other ideas.

Rather than going just a few feet in the air, James soared up, up, up, whooping and hollering with glee the entire way. Madam Hooch blew her whistle.

“Potter!” she barked. “Come back down at once!”

Still laughing, James dove towards the ground, scattering the first years as he came in for a swift but smooth landing.

“Mr. Potter,” said Madam Hooch, as Sirius high-fived James. “You directly disobeyed my instructions and endangered not just yourself but your classmates as well. However…” her face was a mix of angry and almost impressed. “… you should consider trying out for the Quidditch team in a year or two.”

James was beyond delighted. It was all he could talk about for days.

The rest of the week passed relatively uneventfully, aside from the occasional prank during breakfast or in the common room, all courtesy of the Marauders or, more accurately, James and Sirius. On Wednesday night at midnight they studied the night sky through their telescopes and learned the names of the different stars and the movements of the planets. Sirius boasted about being named after a star and, despite pretending otherwise, Astronomy was secretly one of his favorite classes.

On Thursday they had double Defense, History of Magic, Herbology, and another Transfiguration lesson. After a Charms lesson on Friday they went to a daytime Astronomy class, where Professor Sinistra — a dark skinned wizard with tattoos of the constellations that moved around his forearms — had them take notes over a complex star chart. After Potions, a free period, another study hall, and History of Magic, they were done for the week, and as it was such a beautiful evening after dinner the Marauders headed outside to enjoy it.

They found a large, shady beech tree and sprawled on the grass. James lay flat on his back, waving his hands in the air as he talked, while Remus leaned against the tree, looking in much better health than he had started the week. Sirius layed down next to James, but only after folding up his robe and putting it under his head so he wouldn’t mess up his hair, and Peter sat cross legged on the ground next to him.

“I can’t believe McGonagall gave us so much homework,” James was saying. “We’re  _ Gryffindors _ , she should favor us at least a little!”

“You love Transfiguration, don’t pretend,” teased Sirius. “What about you, Peter? Which class was your favorite?”

“Charms,” said Peter, after a moment of consideration.

“Remus?”

“I’m not sure,” he said slowly. “If Professor Sparks were a better teacher I think Defense Against the Dark Arts would be my favorite.”

“Here’s hoping he doesn’t last,” said James. “I heard from some fourth years that they’ve had three teachers before him.” He rolled over, propping himself up on his elbows to look at Remus. “Who knows, one day maybe you’ll be the teacher.”

Remus snorted and rolled his eyes. “That’d take a miracle,” he said, and while the others laughed his smile grew just a bit dimmer as he thought of the real reason why he could never be a teacher at Hogwarts.

Eventually it got dark, and the four boys headed back into the castle, laughing the whole way. They headed upstairs, where James and Sirius refused to let Remus succumb to the pile of waiting homework. The four boys played Exploding Snap in the common room, finishing the game having only singed one of Peter’s eyebrows, and then they changed into their pajamas and went one by one to bed. James did not fail to snore, and it was Peter’s turn to toss a pillow at him, and finally they were all asleep, exhausted after their first exciting week at Hogwarts.


	7. Letters from Home

_ August 16th, 1971 _

_ Dear Mamma and Papa, _

_ I miss you already, but so far I am enjoying being at Durmstrang. I met Headmaster Grimsrud during lunch on Sunday, and he is just like Grandpapa described. I share a dorm with a Finnish girl named Marita Penttinen, an Austrian girl named Theresa Fritzl, and a girl from Belarus named Anastasiya Harecki. When you both were in your first year at Durmstrang, were you also in a dorm with students who spoke different languages? _

_ I’ve enjoyed my classes so far, even if I’ve only had a few. I don’t mind waking up early, but the bells are very loud. Most of the teachers are strict and intimidating, but I don’t dislike any of them yet. I particularly enjoyed flying, and I’m excited for Offensive & Defensive Magic, Potions, and Transfiguration. I’m looking forward to all of my classes, but those three in particular. _

_ I’ve made one friend and one acquaintance/potential friend so far, besides Tuva, Emil, Adrianos, and the girls in my dorm. The acquaintance is another Norwegian girl named Brita Stensby, who’s very nice but is hesitant to talk to me. My friend’s name is Helle Myhr, and she lives in Reinøya. She doesn’t talk much, but she’s nice to be around and she’s witty. We met on the tour. Both of her parents were in Korolevskiy, but she says she’d rather be anywhere than there. Another reason I like her is she didn’t ask anything about my scars. _

_ Only a few students have asked me about them, but I often catch people looking at me. Sometimes it’s just because I’m a princess, but usually I can tell by their expression that they’re staring at my scars. Emil has introduced me to a lot of his friends and they’re all nice, if a bit rowdy. He’s made quite a few for such a short amount of time. _

_ Did your teachers refer to you as ‘Prince/Princess’ or ‘Your Highness’ at all? Several of mine do, and I stand out even more because of it. Once my classmates get used to it, it won’t be as big of a deal, but for now it’s making things a bit awkward. I miss you all and I love you! _

_ Love, _

_ Astrid _

_ Crown Princess of Norway _

August 17th, 1971

Dear Astrid,

We are so pleased to hear that you are having fun at Durmstrang! Your mother and I were both in dorms with students who we didn’t understand. I believe there was a Swedish lad in my dorm, along with a Ukrainian and an Estonian, and your mother shared with an Icelander, a Czech girl, and a Brit. Headmaster Grimsrud and your grandfather got along only because they shared Durmstrang’s values of discipline and honor — values I’m sure all of your teachers have repeated the importance of, as well as the supposedly all-important house placement ceremony at the end of the year. Don’t fret about it — you’ll do great in whichever house you end up in and we’re proud of you no matter what.

We can both still remember the bells at Durmstrang, and you’ll find that neither of us miss them. We hope you’ll enjoy all of your classes, and perhaps next year you can try out for one of the house teams. We’re even more pleased to hear about your new friends, particularly Ms. Myhr. She sounds like a delightful young girl, and quite different from her parents, which your mother and I agree is a good thing. As for the other girls, we’re sure you will all get to know each other in due course.

As for your scars, your mother and I are afraid that there’s nothing we can do to help you, except to tell you to keep your chin up and embrace them. People will stare, but after a while they will grow accustomed to seeing them and they will stop staring. And your brother has always been friendly and, like his friends, a bit rowdy. In terms of your title, most of your teachers will use it. Durmstrang Institute is incredibly formal, but like your scars, your classmates will get used to it.

We miss you very much, but we are very happy to hear that you are doing well, and we wish you all the best, both in school and with your new friends!

Love,

Constantine & Inga

King of Greece & Queen of Norway

A.K.A. Papa & Mamma

_ August 16th, 1971 _

_ Dear Mamma and Papa, _

_ I’m having a great time at school! Of course I miss home but I’ve already made a lot of friends. I got to know the other Norwegian boys, Sander Finstad, Klaus Norberg, and Leif Saltvig, during the tour and we get along great, especially Klaus, Leif, and I. I also met a couple of Swedish boys, Axel Cederblom and Lars Magnusson, and a Dane, Christoffer Damgaard. We all run together in the morning and they’re all fun and energetic. I’ve also tried to get to know the other boys in my dorm, but it’s harder since we don’t speak the same language. I’ll keep trying! I’ve got a Polish boy named Patrik Keskitalo, Benedikt Gramlich, a German, and Ernsts Karlsons, a Latvian. Patrik and Benedikt both speak somewhat good English, but Ernsts hardly speaks any. _

_ My classes have been fun so far. Today I had Charms, History of Magic, Flying (which was my favorite), Offensive & Defensive Magic, and a Potions Lecture, as well as of course Physical Education. Are the bells necessary? I nearly fell out of bed when they went off. Like I said, all of my friends and I ran together, and then Astrid, Adrianos, Christoffer, Lars, and Sander were in Charms. In History of Magic I met a couple more Danes: Niklas Gregersen, Nikolai Kristiansen, and Hans Thorup, and I sat with Axel, Leif, and Sander. I also met a Swedish boy named Viggo Crusenstolpe. All of the teachers are strict and a lot of them are frightening, which I guess is good if they want to keep kids from misbehaving, but it doesn’t make them very friendly. _

_ I know you were worried about Astrid and I, but we’re doing good. I’ve made a lot of friends. Aside from Tuva and Adrianos, Astrid’s made friends with the other girls in her dorm and the other two Norwegian girls. One of them looks haughty but is really nice and the other one is weird and quiet, though I’m sure she’s friendly. That’s the one that Astrid is closest to, and if anyone can bring people out of their shells, it’s her. _

_ Love, _

_ Emil _

_ Prince of Norway & Greece _

August 17th, 1971

Dear Emil,

We are very glad to hear you are enjoying yourself and have already made so many new friends! At your age it’s good to have friends as energetic as you are, especially during the early morning workouts at Durmstrang. Your dormmates will learn English and Norwegian in time, and you can help them to speak it. It’ll take time, however, and you mustn’t be impatient. It will also take time to adjust to the bells, but in time you will, hopefully with minimal bed related injuries.

Your mother and I wish you luck in your classes, but don’t expect many of your teachers to be anything other than strict. They are a reflection of Durmstrang, and, as we’re sure you’re aware, Durmstrang values discipline. We also know that your teachers are stressing the importance of the house placements at the end of the year, but we don’t want you to worry too much about it.

When it comes to worrying about you and Astrid, we always will. Like you, your sister has a knack for dealing with people, but she isn’t as outgoing as you so we are glad to hear that she has also made friends. We miss you very much and we are so pleased that you are having fun!

Love,

Constantine & Inga

King of Greece & Queen of Norway

A.K.A. Papa & Mamma

_ August 17th, 1971 _

_ Dear Mother and Father, _

_ I’m only writing this letter out of obligation, and since you never bother to open your own mail anyway I suppose I should really address this letter to Anabet. Hello Ana. I hope you’re somehow managing to have a nice day working for those two. _

_ Durmstrang is already better than being stuck at home while you two are locked in your offices or off at parties. I haven’t burned the school down yet so I’m sure I’ve exceeded all your expectations. I don’t expect either of you to set aside any time to write back to your daughter. You never have in the past, so just know that I’m perfectly fine without you around. I’ve spent most of my life like this anyway. _

_ — Helle _

_ P.S. Anabet if you could send me my book entitled ‘Hexes for the Modern Era’ that would be much appreciated. The Durmstrang library doesn’t seem to have the specific publication I’m looking for and it’s rather frustrating. _

August 18th, 1971

Dear Helle,

It’s lovely to hear from you and I’m so glad that you are enjoying school so far. I’m sure your parents miss you, they’re just very busy right now. Have you made any friends yet? First year is always the best time to get to know your peers because you aren’t so separated by houses yet. I met some life long friends at Durmstrang and I hope you’ll have similarly wonderful experiences. I’ve sent the book you requested but please use it responsibly. I really would like to avoid a repeat of what happened to your first fencing instructor. I’m always happy to write to you and I hope to hear more about Durmstrang from you in the future.

Sincerely,

Anabet 

Office of Alexander Myhr

_ September 2nd, 1971 _

_ Dear Mum and Dad, _

_ Hogwarts is the best!!! And guess what? I was sorted into GRYFFINDOR!!!!! _

_ Classes don’t start until Monday, so me and my new friends decided to explore the castle. Well, it was really my idea. My new friends are Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew. Sirius is the best!!! He thought he was going to be sorted into Slytherin ugh like the rest of his family have been but he was put in Gryffindor instead! His parents were really angry about it and his mum sent him a Howler. I think we should invite him over for Christmas. _

_ Remus is really nice! He’s got all these scars on his face and hands but I didn’t ask him where they came from because I wanted to make friends with him. The scars make him look tough, but he folds his socks! Can you imagine? Anyway, Remus is always carrying a book around but Sirius and I still convinced him to go exploring. And Peter is fun! He tells good jokes and he’s happy to help us. He was nervous on the train and it took the hat forever to sort him, but I’m glad he ended up in Gryffindor!! There’s one more boy in our dorm, Kingsley. He’s nice but so far he sort of keeps to himself, and I met a redheaded girl on the train named Lily. She seemed nice but the boy she was with was awful. _

_ I miss you!!! And I love you!!! _

_ Your favorite son, _

_ James Potter _

_ P.S. I wish I had my broom! _

September 3rd, 1971

Dear Jamesie,

We’re so proud of you for making it into Gryffindor! Your father and I haven’t stopped smiling since we got your letter!

We are so happy to hear about your new friends, particularly young Sirius. It sounds like Remus and Peter could use a friend like you as well. We’re sure the other boy in your dorm and the girl you met on the train are both very nice and would also make good friends. Even the ‘awful’ boy with her might be nicer than you think.

In the three days before classes begin, try not to get into too much trouble! Your father and I suggest you stick to exploring the main parts of the castle, particularly how to get to your classes, and not waste your time trying to find hidden rooms. We hope you are a good influence on your new friends.

We miss you very much! The house feels empty without you here!

Love,

Mum and Dad

P.S. You know you can’t have your broom!

_ September 2nd, 1971 _

_ Dear Mum and Dad, _

_ I’m enjoying Hogwarts a lot more than I thought I would. I was sorted into Gryffindor, which surprised me. I thought I’d be in Ravenclaw. The best part is that I made friends. I met James Potter, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew on the train and we all ended up in Gryffindor together. I really like them, and none of them said anything about all my scars! I know they’re curious, but they’re really nice. I’m excited to start class on Monday. Today my new friends and I are going to explore the castle. The library at Hogwarts is enormous! _

_ The full moon is the night before classes begin. I’m already feeling ill, but don’t worry, I won’t tell any of my friends. I don’t want to ruin my first real friendships, even if it makes me feel guilty not to tell them. I know the plan from Madam Pomfrey. I should have enough chocolate to make it through this cycle. I miss you, but I really am happy here. I know you both hoped I would be, and I guess I surprised myself. _

_ Love, _

_ Remus _

September 3rd, 1971

Dearest Remus,

Your father and I are delighted to hear that you are enjoying yourself! Your father is especially pleased that you were sorted into Gryffindor. We are so proud of you for making friends and we are so happy that you did! We wish you luck in your classes.

We hope your transformation isn’t too painful and I feel terrible that there’s nothing I can do to help. Just in case, we attached a package with more chocolate. Your father says it’s for the best that your new friends don’t know, but I think that one day you might be able to tell them. We miss you but we are so glad that you’re doing well!

With all our love,

Lyall and Hope Lupin

_ September 2nd, 1971 _

_ Dear Mum, Dad, and Tuney, _

_ Hogwarts is very cool so far! I was sorted into Gryffindor, but Severus was put in Slytherin. I talked to the other girls in my dorm and even the students here who come from magic families don’t know much already, so I won’t be far behind. The girls in my dorm are all very nice. It’s me, Alice, Mary, Marlene, and Dorcas. We stayed up for a while last night talking about our families and Hogwarts. _

_ Classes don’t actually start until Monday, so Mary suggested we walk around the school today. It’s all very confusing. The staircases move and change and there’s lots of trick doors and empty rooms. Marlene spent a lot of time talking about Quidditch, which is that sport played on broomsticks that Professor McGonagall told us about. Marlene said first years get flying lessons. I don’t think I’ll like it very much. I’m much more excited about Transfiguration, Charms, and Potions! _

_ I’m missing home and all of you already, especially you Tuney, but I think I’ll enjoy it here! I’ve already had lots of fun and we’ve been here for less than a day! _

_ Love, _

_ Lily _

_ P.S. The headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, is a little strange, but he looks just like I imagined! He’s got a long white beard and wears lots of funny robes and hats. _

September 3rd, 1971

Dear Lily,

We are just so proud of you, heading bravely off to Hogwarts, and we are so happy you like it! You’ve always been bright, so we know you’ll catch up fast. Your new friends sound very fun and everything you’ve described at Hogwarts sounds so very exciting! Try and be safe, or at least as safe as you can be, during your flying lessons.

All of your classes sound exciting and strange, and please tell us all about them! Professor Dumbledore sounds quite unusual. Even the castle sounds magical and complex, and we wish you luck finding your way around.

Petunia misses you very much, and so do we.

Love,

Mum, Dad, and Petunia

_ September 3rd, 1971 _

_ Dear Mum and Dad, _

_ I’m sorry I didn’t write sooner, but I forgot. I was sorted into Gryffindor! The hat couldn’t decide between Slytherin and Gryffindor but I’m so happy it put me in Gryffindor! Remus said I was a hatstall. I made some friends on the train and they all ended up in Gryffindor as well! There’s Remus, who I met first, James, and Sirius. James came up with a group name for us: the Marauders! One of our teachers, Professor McGonagall, called us marauders and James liked it so much he picked it for our group. Professor McGonagall scares me a little. I’m having lots of fun at Hogwarts! _

_ I miss you! _

_ Peter _

September 4th, 1971

Dear Peter,

Oh we are so proud of you for making it into Gryffindor! Your father and I are practically bursting with pride. The Marauders sound like quite a wild bunch, but we are so happy that you’ve made three wonderful friends. Professor McGonagall sounds like someone you shouldn’t cross. Please don’t let your new friends get you into too much trouble. Have lots of fun and we hope your classes all go well! We miss you too!

Love,

Mum and Dad

_ September 4th, 1971 _

_ Dear Regulus, _

_ It’s me, your older brother Sirius. By now you know that I’m in Gryffindor. I’m doing well here. Don’t tell mother and father about this letter. Don’t miss me too much. _

_ Sirius Black _

September 5th, 1971

Dear Sirius,

Mother and father are not pleased that you aren’t in Slytherin. They are about ready to boil over, so please don’t do anything to make them any angrier. I had to hide this owl in my room to keep our parents from finding out.

I miss you,

Regulus Black


	8. Halloween

_ September 1971 — October 31st, 1971 _

As the weeks flew by, the students grew more accustomed to life at school.

At Durmstrang, the bells rang five days a week and the students all gathered in the front courtyard without fail. On Wednesdays while the weather was still warm — or, at least, above freezing — the students were expected to swim across one of the lakes. An older student would blast the first years with a spell to dry their hair and clothes, and then they would run laps around the Quidditch Pitch until it was time for breakfast.

The classes themselves got more exciting as the students were taught more and more magic. In Charms they were taught the difference between a jinx, hex, and a curse and examples of each in addition to the prettier household charms. In Discipline & Decorum, once they could recite all of Durmstrang’s rules backwards and forwards, they moved on to dueling etiquette, and in Flying they had begun to fly laps at a slow speed and low height. Astrid longed to fly faster, but she obeyed Professor Winther’s instructions.

Less than two weeks into term, and Professor Linderoth informed them that it was time for their first duel in Offensive & Defensive Magic. Astrid volunteered, and was picked to face Axel Cederblom, a Swedish boy who was a friend of Emil’s. Despite his newfound friendship, Emil rooted for his sister as she and Axel faced each other in front of the class. The desks had disappeared and a dueling ring had been marked.

Astrid and Axel bowed to one another, both clutching their wands anxiously.

“Begin,” said Professor Linderoth.

“Flipendo!” cried Astrid, and Axel was thrown backwards. He scrambled to his feet and raised his wand, but she yelled, “Expelliarmus!”

His wand went flying out of his hand. Already she had won the duel, but she had one more card to play.

“Petrificus Totalus!”

Axel’s arms snapped to his sides like a soldier at attention. He fell backwards, hitting the ground with a thump.

“Very good!” said Professor Linderoth as the class applauded. “Next time, don’t let him get to his feet before casting your next spell, but otherwise that was excellent! Very smart of you to literally throw him off balance, and great use of the Knockback Jinx you just learned. You show great promise for dueling, and if you keep this up I would advice Mr. Cederblom and the rest of your classmates to watch out.”

Astrid was blushing after all the praise. Helle was impressed. She liked Astrid, sure, but she expected her to be fragile and sheltered based on her upbringing. Perhaps she wasn’t as delicate as Helle thought.

“Try ‘ _ Rennervate _ ,’” Professor Linderoth was saying, now testing whether or not Astrid could reverse the curse on Axel.

Sure enough, it worked, and Astrid helped him to his feet.

“Next time, don’t wait to cast a spell,” said Professor Linderoth, the smile she had given Astrid gone as she corrected Axel. “And if you’re knocked down, you might not have time to get up.”

The bell rang and she dismissed them.

“Sorry mate,” said Emil, clapping Axel on the back once he had retrieved his wand. He was grinning from ear to ear. “I never bet against my sister.”

“It was the first duel,” said Axel, shrugging it off. “But I’m going to be sore for days after hitting the wall. Hey! Princess!”

Up ahead Astrid, who was walking with Helle, stopped and turned around.

“Yes?”

“Good job back there,” said Axel. “I’ll have to volunteer for the next duel we have in class and win to redeem myself.”

“I’m sure you will,” said Astrid encouragingly. “You aren’t bad at it. You can’t be if you’ve only tried once. And you were great when we practiced the Knockback Jinx in class.” She adjusted the strap of her bookbag. “Was there… anything else? I’ve got to get to Potions.”

“Oh, no,” said Axel quickly. “I just wanted to congratulate you.” Astrid nodded, smiled at him and her brother, and left.

“We’re going to be late for our Potions lecture,” said Emil. “Let’s go.”

Potions was another class that Astrid enjoyed. She was good at it, so far, and got a sense of satisfaction each time she completed a step. Helle liked the actual potion making, even if her approach to the measurements were a bit more slapdash, which made the resulting potion often a little…  _ different _ . What she did not enjoy was sitting through the lectures and listening to Professor Zobor explain the properties of each little plant and ingredient. She often doodled instead of taking dutiful notes like Astrid.

In Transfiguration they had graduated from matches into needles and were now working on making mice into snuff boxes. Astrid turned her little white mouse into an ornate little silver snuff box, while Emil managed a highly decorative one that somehow still had whiskers. Language Studies wasn’t particularly interesting, but Astrid stayed quiet and did her best to help her dormmates practice their English.

History of Magic was heavily focused on the accomplishments of purebloods, particularly those that had once attended Durmstrang, but Professor Dalgaard’s energetic style of teaching still managed to make his lectures enjoyable. Magical Flora & Fauna hadn’t advanced far in terms of magical creatures, but every lesson they learned about a more dangerous type of plant, and Professor Hellqvist took care to mention their uses in potions.

Once a month, they were tested in all of their classes to see how well they were learning the spells and concepts, as a way to track their progress for the all-important house placement at the end of the year. The tests were practical in every class save History of Magic, where their exam had them explain the significance of various wizarding achievements throughout the years.

The opening Quidditch match of the year took place on Saturday, September 4th between Volkovio’s top team, which was the best team in the school, and Knigav’s third team, which was acknowledged as generally the worst team in the school. Unsurprisingly, Knigav’s team suffered a crushing defeat, losing by more than four hundred points with only two goals scored, one of which was after a penalty.

September continued, and saw Volkovio’s second team beat the house’s third team, Knigav’s top team crush Skuchnyy’s only team, and Korolevskiy beat Knigav’s second team, all in subsequent weeks. October came and Volkovio’s top team also beat their third team, while their second team beat Skuchnyy’s team. Knigav’s first team beat their second in the week before Halloween, which was celebrated differently by the different students, and not at all by many.

Theresa put bread, water, and a lighted lamp on her bedside table, as was the custom in Austria to make sure the souls of their beloved dead were welcomed on the one night the Austrians believed they could come back. The Germans hid many of the knives at dinner, to keep the spirits from hurting the living and vice versa. The Poles celebrated both All Saints’ Day and All Souls’ Day with the windows and doors open, but the other Durmstrang students protested based on how cold it was outside. The Swedish students lit candles for their beloved ones who had passed away.

Over at Hogwarts, Halloween was a much bigger celebration, but in the weeks leading up to it the students there were still adjusting to life at school.

James was top of the class in Transfiguration, and despite being, as Professor McGonagall put it, a consistent headache, he earned enough points to balance out the ones he lost. And he and the other Marauders, particularly Sirius, certainly lost quite a few. They had a new prank or way to be disruptive just about every day, to the continued frustration of their teachers.

Sirius, in addition to his affinity for Astronomy, had developed a particular knack for Charms. He tried to act as if he were too cool for it, but whenever Professor Flitwick called on him he always had an answer, and it secretly pleased him to be good at it.

“Mr. Black,” said Professor Flitwick one day, after they had spent several class periods studying the theory behind the Levitation Charm. “Perhaps if you could demonstrate. Remember: swish and flick.”

Sirius took a deep breath, raised his wand, and pointed it at the feather in front of him.  _ Swish and flick _ . “Wingardium Leviosa!”

His feather wobbled for a moment and then rose steadily off the table.

“Oh well done!” exclaimed Professor Flitwick, clapping his little hands together excitedly. “Ten points to Gryffindor!”

Despite Professor Sparks’ lessons not getting any more interesting, Remus still maintained that he enjoyed the class. He was good at remembering the theory behind spells, much better than the other three, and whenever he cast one it was always with proper wand movement and correct pronunciation. Kingsley Shacklebolt, who was proficient in Transfiguration, shared Remus’s enthusiasm for Defense, and the two of them often studied together with some of the girls.

Speaking of the girls, the Marauders had gotten to know them as well. They were closest to Marlene McKinnon, who was nearly as talkative and wild as they were. There was also Dorcas Meadowes, who always had a snappy comeback and who was always with Marlene, Alice Lightwood, who was quiet but had an infectious laugh, and Mary Macdonald, who was studious but with a good sense of humor. The last of the Gryffindor girls was Lily Evans, who, of all of them, had barely defrosted when it came to the Marauders.

It certainly didn’t help that Snape, her greasy haired, hooked-nose friend, was not a favorite with the Marauders, to say the least. He didn’t like them, and they certainly didn’t like him, or any of the other Slytherin boys he hung around with. Evan Rosier tried to jinx Peter, and James retaliated by charming his hair red for a week. He’d gotten detention for it, but it was worth it, and so had Rosier. Thankfully, Professor McGonagall had the foresight to not make them serve detention together.

For the most part, Lily ignored them, particularly James and Sirius, although she often joined Kingsley and Remus to study. She was top of the class in Potions and second only to James in Transfiguration, something that frustrated her, but in Potions she soared unopposed. Professor Slughorn heaped praise on her, and nearly every potion she made was perfect.

Peter, on the other hand, was terrible at Potions. It was his worst subject. No matter how hard he tried or how much the other boys tried to help him, nearly every potion he made turned out hissing and smoking, the wrong color or thickness; he’d melted one cauldron completely and was moving fast through another.

So far Professor Slughorn had only had one Slug Club meeting, which Sirius only survived thanks to James’ witty remarks — and the fifty or so frogs they had released during the dinner party. Most of the students stood on their chairs, while James and Sirius roared with laughter. Amazingly, Professor Slughorn did not suspect them; he seemed to believe it was a disgruntled student who had not been invited to the party, not two attendees seated right in front of him.

All while they were enjoying themselves at school, the rest of the wizarding world was concerned about the war. The Daily Prophet was the Hogwarts students’ best source for news, as their parents were reluctant to tell them anything that was going on and, if their parents were muggles like Lily’s and Mary’s, they hadn’t a clue. Reports emerged in the Daily Prophet of giants attacking muggles and fanatical unprovoked attacks on witches and wizards, often muggleborns or blood traitors. Few spoke the name of the wizard who was behind it all — Lord Voldemort — and instead referred to him as You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He was not a popular topic of conversation among the younger years, who were either too afraid or too uninformed to discuss him.

Halloween dawned with a chill in the air, the castle shrouded in mist. It was a Sunday, and though the sky outside was thick with clouds, the students’ spirits could not be dimmed as they looked forward to the Halloween feast that evening.

The ghosts got extra attention today, as many more people wanted to hear how they died. Nearly Headless Nick was the center of it all, having died on Halloween four hundred seventy-nine years ago. The delicious smell of baked pumpkin wafted through the corridors, and instead of candles, jack-o-lanterns floated overhead, grinning or glaring down at the students. There were bowls of candy corn at breakfast, and more at lunch, which, in addition to causing numerous sugar highs, made for excellent ammunition, and more than a few students had resorted to pelting one another with them.

“BOO!” shouted James and Sirius together, causing Remus to knock over a pitcher of pumpkin juice, a platter of eggs, and an entire bowl of candy corn.

“FUCK!” exclaimed Remus at the top of his lungs. He immediately blushed deep red as his exclamation and the mess he had made drew attention. He turned around and swatted his friends, who had practically fallen over from laughing so hard.

“Never do that again,” said Remus in a low voice, trying to calm his heart, which was practically running a marathon in his chest. “I’m serious.”

“No,” said Sirius, wiping a tear from his eye. “ _ I’m _ Sirius.” James burst into renewed peals of laughter and Remus cracked a smile despite himself.

Finally, when at last their laughter had subsided, James and Sirius noticed that something was once again off about their friend. He looked exhausted and pale, and was twitchier than normal.

“Is everything all right, mate?” asked James.

“Yeah,” said Remus. “I’m fine. It’s just…”

“Just what?” pressed Sirius. “C’mon, you can tell us. We’re your friends.”

Remus almost told them.

“It’s just… my mother’s ill.”

At once his friends’ faces fell.

“That’s awful,” said James.

“Yeah, we’re really sorry mate,” said Sirius.

“She’s not— dying, or anything,” added Remus quickly. “But I’m going to visit her on… on Tuesday.”

“What’s on Tuesday?” asked Peter, taking a seat across from them.

“Remus’s mother is ill,” explained James. “He’s going to see her on Tuesday.”

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, and that night they entered the Great Hall to find a spectacular feast waiting for them. A thousand live blats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds to the shrieking delight of the students, making the candles in the pumpkins stutter.

The feast was magnificent, but dessert was the best part. Hundreds of warm pumpkin pies dotted the tables, which had been laid with huge bowls of candy and chocolate amid the regular desserts — blocks of ice cream, pies and tarts, chocolate eclairs — all decorated for the holiday. Everyone filled their pockets with sweets, and Remus was able to take as much chocolate as his heart desired. The feast was the best meal they’d had so far, better even than the start-of-term feast, even though more than a few students went to bed with stomach aches.

Peter fell into bed and was asleep at once, but for the first time James was still awake — with an enormous sugar high. He was practically singing, bouncing on the end of his bed and chattering away without caring if his friends were listening (which they weren’t) or if they responded (which they didn’t).

“I just want to sleep,” moaned Sirius for the fourth time, rubbing his eyes. Remus agreed. He was tired enough around full moons without James making it worse.

“He’ll crash eventually,” said Remus. He’d already said that more than once.

“Hey. Kingsley. Hey, Kingsley!” hissed Sirius, until their fifth dormmate opened his curtains, wide awake. “How do we shut James up?”

“I dunno,” said Kingsley, yawning. “You could silence him, but that’s really advanced magic. OWL level.”

“We couldn’t just… knock him out?” suggested Sirius.

Remus shook his head. “Too risky. And we don’t learn how to make a Sleeping Draught until next year.”

“What if we gave him more candy?” Both Sirius and Remus looked at Kingsley like he was crazy.

“Are you nuts?” whispered Sirius. “ _ More _ ?”

“Think about it,” said Kingsley. “Maybe it’ll make him crash faster.”

The more they thought about it, the more they agreed it was a good idea. And whether it was or not, they were just tired enough to try anything. So each boy took some candy from his stash — Remus very reluctantly — and gave it to James. Amazingly, it worked, and after chowing Sirius’s contribution, James practically passed out, a still wrapped chocolate bar in his hand.

Remus and Kingsley took back their candy while Sirius whined about having to give up his, but it was with immense relief that they all crawled into bed.

“He isn’t dead, is he?” said Sirius suddenly.

But a moment later James gave an enormous snore, and they were able to sleep knowing that while their dormmate had the loudest snores any of them had ever heard, at least he was alive. After a while, just like always, Sirius, as it was his turn, reached over and thumped James with a pillow, and at last he fell silent and they all had a good night’s sleep.


	9. Birthdays

_ November 3rd, 1971 _

“Happy birthday!”

Sirius shot out of bed, too disoriented from James shouting in his ear to register that his friends were celebrating, not attacking him.

“Wha — what’s going on?” he said groggily.

“It’s your birthday, mate,” said James, clapping him on the back. “We want to give you your gifts before breakfast. Kingsley’s already gone down, but he left a box for you.”

“You have to get dressed first,” said Remus sternly, taking the flat blue box from James. “We don’t want to miss breakfast.”

Finally, when Sirius was wearing his uniform, Remus handed him the box from Kingsley.

“Sugar quills!” said Sirius excitedly, picking one up.

“Open mine!” said Peter, handing him a big cardboard box. Inside was an assortment of chocolate frogs and every-flavor beans.

“Thanks Peter!” said Sirius, opening one of the chocolate frogs. Before he could see what card he got, Remus handed him a heavy hardcover book. “‘ _ A Comprehensive Theory of Charms _ ’?” he said, doing a poor job of hiding his lack of excitement.

Remus wasn’t bothered.

“Open it,” he prompted.

“Wow!” said Sirius. “This is so much cooler! Thanks Remus!”

Instead of being a real book, the cover opened to reveal a secret compartment hidden among the pages, choc full of chocolate that Remus had ordered from Honeydukes.

“Alright, my turn,” said James. He gave Sirius a package wrapped in brown paper with a little bow on the top. Sirius practically tore it open.

Inside was a red and gold scarf wrapped around a tin of sweets, a birthday card signed by James’s parents, and best of all a leather jacket. A real life leather jacket just for Sirius. He gasped and put it on at once.

“This is amazing!” he said, running over to admire himself in the mirror. “I’m officially the bad boy of the group.”

Remus snorted.

“Whatever you say, Sirius,” said James, grinning as he clapped a hand on his best friend’s shoulder. “Let’s go down to breakfast.”

The birthday celebration didn’t end in the dorm. As they entered the Great Hall — Sirius wearing his new leather jacket — confetti rained down on them, a mix of actual confetti and rainbow sparks.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY SIRIUS!” shouted the other Marauders in unison. They led Sirius to the Gryffindor table, where James procured an entire birthday cake.

“It’s from my mum,” he explained, setting the ever so slightly squashed but still very delicious looking cake on the table between them.

“Cake for breakfast, James?” challenged Sirius. “I accept.”

When it was time for the mail to arrive, his family’s handsome tawny owl arrived, carrying a letter and a small box. Sirius opened the letter first.

_ November 2nd, 1971 _

_ Dear Sirius, _

_ As it is your birthday, your mother and I wish you well. Thus far, you have only managed to disappoint us, both in your lack of communication and failure to join Slytherin. We can only hope you have made better choices and are associating yourself with proper purebloods. Enclosed you will find a gift from us as well as something from your brother. _

_ Many happy returns, _

_ Walburga & Cygnus Black _

“Well that’s more cheerful than usual,” said Sirius dryly, handing the letter to James. It bothered him a little, but he didn’t show it and instead turned to the little box. On top was attached a folded piece of parchment from Regulus.

_ Happy birthday Sirius! I miss you! _

_ Love, _

_ Regulus _

Sirius grinned and shoved the note in his pocket. Inside the box was first — and most boringly — a booklet with helpful reminders about the dangers of associating with muggleborns and instructions on behaving like a pureblood. Sirius did the wisest thing and set it on fire.

The other item in the box was a small silver picture frame, with a picture of him and Regulus inside. The inhabitants of the photo waved merrily up at him and his smile softened.

“Sirius mate,” said James, interrupting his thoughts. “We, er, got you something else.”

Right at that moment, no less than a dozen owls dropped howlers onto the table, and out bellowed the voices of his three best friends in a warbled and noisy version of ‘Happy Birthday.’ All unhappy thoughts about his parents were long gone by the time the song ended and Professor McGonagall marched over.

“Mr. Black,” she said crisply, “I understand it is your birthday. Can we expect any more interruptions throughout the day?”

“I don’t know, Professor,” said Sirius. “You’d have to ask James.”

“Well, Mr. Potter?”

“That was it, Professor,” said James. “We wanted to wish Sirius a happy birthday, you see.”

“And so you have,” she said. Professor McGonagall turned to leave, but not before adding, “Happy birthday, Mr. Black.”

~~~

_ November 29th, 1971 _

“Happy birthday, Helle!” said Astrid, jogging up beside her.

“Thanks,” mumbled Helle in reply.

“How do you normally celebrate at home?”

Helle shrugged.

“Anabet insists on singing to me every year and we always have Finnbiff,” she said.

“Stew with reindeer meat. Good choice,” said Astrid, nodding appreciatively.

“I usually open presents first,” continued Helle. Her eyes narrowed. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” said Astrid innocently. “Mikael and I have something planned, that’s all.”

“What do you have planned?” asked Helle, but Astrid sped up and didn’t answer. “Astrid! What do you have planned?”

“You’ll see!”

Astrid and Mikael made Helle wait all day for her surprise. The anticipation of what they were going to do made her anxious, and all day long she was worried they were going to jump up and sing in front of everyone or ambush her with gifts at mealtime. But the day passed and nothing happened, and only before dinner did Astrid finally lead Helle into her dorm room, shutting the door behind them.

“Surprise,” she said.

Helle opened her eyes to see Mikael and Astrid, each holding one nicely wrapped gift. Between them on a desk sat a bowl of Finnbish and two more presents. There was no one else in the dorm.

“But — I thought — How —”

“We like to think we know you pretty well,” said Mikael. “What, did you think we would embarrass you in front of everyone? You would’ve hated that.”

“Just to be safe, we wrote to Anabet to make sure,” said Astrid. “She sent you a gift, along with the one from your parents, and the bowl of Finnbiff, which is your favorite.”

“I — Thank you,” said Helle sincerely. “Thank you guys so much. This is incredible.”

“Before you open your gifts, we have to sing  _ Hurra for Deg _ ,” said Astrid.

“No —”

“Astrid spent the last three weeks teaching me,” said Mikael. “You can’t back out now.”

“No, please —”

But they were already singing. And clapping. And dancing. The Norwegian birthday song was complicated.

“ _ Hurra for deg som fyller ditt år! _

_ Ja, deg vil vi gratulere! _

_ Alle i ring omkring deg vi står, _

_ og se, nå vil vi marsjere, _

_ bukke, nikke, neie, snu oss omkring, _

_ danse for deg med hopp og sprett og spring, _

_ ønske deg av hjertet alle gode ting! _

_ Og si meg så, hva vil du mere? _

_ Gratulere! _ ”

Helle was blushing by the time the song ended and Astrid and Mikael had finished singing, twirling, hopping, and bowing, but she was also grinning, thankful for the effort her friends had gone to for her birthday.

“Present time!” said Mikael. He handed Helle his gift first. She took off the lid and pulled out a miniature alarm clock. “I know how you hate being woken up by the bells, so with this you can wake up a few minutes earlier to the sound of classical music. What do you think?”

“I think it’s a terrific gift,” said Helle, turning it over in her hands. “Thanks Mikael, this is great.”

“My turn!” said Astrid.

“Looks like a book. Feels like a book,” said Helle, unwrapping it. “It’s a… journal!”

It was a beautiful journal. It was red, with an ornate clasp, and her initials  _ HSM _ written in silver.

“It can only be opened by you,” said Astrid. “I noticed you’ve been writing ideas for spells and doodling on your notes and I thought you might like somewhere to write where no one could read them.”

“Thanks Astrid!” said Helle, admiring the journal. “It’s awesome.”

“This one’s from your parents, I think,” said Mikael.

“A jewelry box,” said Helle unenthusiastically. She opened the lid. Inside was a large, bejeweled necklace. It was pretty but gaudy, and not the sort of thing Helle would ever wear. Still, perhaps she could find a use for it.

“And this one —” said Astrid, taking the jewelry box from Helle and setting it on the desk. “— is from Anabet.”

She handed Helle a book entitled  _ Myths & Magic _ .

“Cool!” said Helle, flipping through the pages.

“It’s time for Finnbiff!” said Astrid happily, ladling the stew into three bowls and handing one to each of them.

“Did we do good?” asked Mikael. Helle nodded.

“This was… one of my best birthdays ever,” she said. “Thank you. And this stew is fantastic.”

“It really is,” said Astrid. “Happy birthday!”


End file.
